


why don't we fall in love?

by bittlebunny (american_homos_story)



Series: in you, i've found forever [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Angst, Baker!Bitty, Coming Out, Fluff, I Will Eventually Add More Tags, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mutual Pining, Providence Falconers, Sequel, Slow Burn, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/american_homos_story/pseuds/bittlebunny
Summary: Following his whirlwind of a summer, Eric Bittle is doing his best to find hope and encouragement after his move across the country. He's now the co-owner of his very own bakery and living on his own again while living his dream. There's still something that keeps nagging at his head, though. Weighing on his heart. He knows that playing for the Falconers is what's best for Jack in the long run, but at what cost to Eric? He tries to move on, but things never really go the way he wants or expects them to. Maybe someday, that will somehow work in his favor...Sequel toWhite Houses





	1. even my phone misses your call

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter inspired by: [From the Dining Table by Harry Styles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZxF_nA1SxQ)

“Yeah, it’s a bit small, but it’s only just for me, anyway. Will you stop your damn worrying? You know I don’t need a lot to survive. Hell, when I moved in last summer I spent the first week sleeping on…”

Eric’s voice catches in his throat. “Um, anyway. How have things been back in Boston?”

“Quiet. Somber. Lame, honestly. Shitty’s so stressed out now that school’s already in full swing, so he basically lives in his room or at the library, and it’s been a little bit lonely over here. So much has changed in just a couple of days.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, Lardo.”

“Stop that. Remember, we agreed: no apologizing! You’ve done nothing wrong by following a lifelong dream and doing something good for yourself.”

“I know. You’re right.”

“It’s a hobby of mine. Have you settled in yet? What’ve you been doing all week?”

“Not much, honestly. Holly was with me for the first two days, but she had to leave on Wednesday because she was losing money back home. I’ve been unpacking mostly. Exploring a little bit.”

“Sounds chill. You must be dying to get started, though?”

He flops down onto his bed. “Oh sweet lord, yes, I am. I’m still so nervous about being out here all alone and I really need the work to occupy my brain.”

“You do always feel better once you’re in a kitchen,” she replies, laughing to herself.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to head down and meet Maggie so we can make sure everything is in order before we open next week. I still haven’t seen the place, so I’m not really sure what to expect.”

“What? You haven’t seen it yet? I thought for sure Holly would want to see it before she left.”

“Oh, she did. I was a little preoccupied decorating my room, so she did that on her way out.”

She laughs again and he smiles at the familiar sound.

“Besides, I figure I’ll be seeing it every day for the next...well, who knows how long. I’m not really in a rush!”

“Fair enough. Hey, I love you, dude. You’re gonna kick ass. Text me, yeah?”

He smiles gently. “Thanks Lardo, I will. Love you, too.”

Eric’s arm falls to his bed as he hangs up the phone. The early afternoon sunlight is coming in beams through the dingy curtains, swaying in the breeze of the open window. The late summer air is dry and warm, but from what Eric’s heard the summers on the coast aren’t ever unbearable. Good thing, too; his only source of cool air is a dilapidated fan that’s currently oscillating groggily on his bedside table.

He groans as he sits up, looking at the room around him. Everything has already been unpacked and put away, and the clean, newly decorated room fills him with a sense of renewal. As excellent as his summer had been (for the most part), he’s actually excited to be starting over once again.

On instinct, he grabs his laptop, flips it open, and turns on the camera. It pains him a little every time he uses it, considering it had been a gift from…

Well, that’s not important right now. He has too much to think about to be worrying about that.

“Hey y’all! Sorry for the lack of updates lately, everything has been so crazy… As you can see, my setting had changed again. Already. It’s gonna take a while for everything to sink in, but as I mentioned last time, I’m in San Francisco now! And I’m about to head to my very. Own. _Bakery_ ! Okay, technically it’s _half_ mine, but that’s more than I could ask for, honestly. I’ll make sure I provide you with some more details once I see the place and get acquainted, but for now I know that I’ll be working alongside Holly’s sister, Maggie. She’s got a great mind for business and numbers and the like, so she’ll be mighty helpful!”

His phone buzzes, so he pauses the recording.

**Maggie: Hi Eric, it’s Maggie. I’ll be waiting for you in the bakery whenever you’re ready.**

He sighs, dropping the phone back onto his bed.

“That’s Maggie, I’m supposed to be leaving to meet her now. More to come later!”

He quickly edits and uploads the vlog and puts his laptop away, shutting the open window and taking a quick look in the mirror. He runs his hand through his hair a few times but it’s not in the mood to cooperate, so he gives up and heads out, making sure the door is locked behind him.

* * *

The walk is only about ten minutes, a significant upgrade from the one he made every morning during the summer. Residents of the neighborhood are out and about, enjoying the cool weekend afternoon. The street is lined with cars and Eric smiles as a woman walks by with her dog, which looks up at him as they pass.

The bakery is nestled between a very nice looking apartment building and a tailor. The front is mostly window; light pours in through the glass and reveals the lonely inside. It’s a bit small, but definitely homey, and at the moment all Eric can really see are tables with chairs on top of them. However, one of them has already been cleared and a woman is sitting, a cup of coffee in hand.

A little bell chimes as he pushes the door open; he jumps at the sound. Maggie doesn’t turn around in time to see it, so he shakes off the embarrassment and approaches the table.

“Hi, Eric! I’ve heard so much about you!” Maggie says as she stands and sticks out a hand.

“Likewise. Such a pleasure to finally meet you!”

She nods and gestures to another chair that she removed from the tabletop. “Why don’t you sit? We have a lot to discuss.”

He nods and takes a seat. Unlike her sister, Maggie doesn’t have much of an accent anymore. Holly explained to him that Maggie’s been on the West Coast for a while and it just gradually happened over the years. The physical similarities are definitely there, though. She’s younger than Holly by nearly a decade; her hair is still a dark brown, pulled back into a ponytail. She’s a bit taller and thinner, but they have the same facial features. It’s comforting and also a little off-putting to see Holly’s face on a different body.

“As you can see, the place is still in need of some work, but a lot of it is done already. Holly insisted on straightening up the kitchen before she left. She left you some things too, I think they’re on the counter back there! As for out here, we just have to do some sweeping and cleaning, _especially_ behind the counter. We’ll also have to get ingredients and anything else you might need tomorrow. For now, I think you should just plan to make a couple of pies and maybe a few other things. We haven’t exactly been advertising our opening to people, so we’re gonna have a slow beginning. We’re getting a sign installed outside tomorrow but you don’t have to be here for that. I’m also gonna put up some help wanted flyers around the neighborhood, it might be good to have at least one more person helping us out.”

He nods, suddenly realizing that to the world, this building still looks more or less abandoned.

“We just have to breathe some life into the place, you know?”

“Won’t be a problem! Nothin’ like the smell of baked goods to give a room life.”

She smiles. “For sure. Alright, let’s get started!”

The front counter has a small pile of cleaning supplies: gloves, rags, some sanitizing spray, and a bucket full of sponges and warm, soapy water. A broom leans against the glass with a dustpan lying on the floor next to it. Eric stops for a second, envisioning how the display will look once it’s full of treats. He smiles gently as he grabs the broom and goes to work.

Talk is minimal as they work in tandem to tidy the space. Once Eric is done sweeping the floors, he takes down all the chairs, wiping them down along with the tables. The furniture is wooden, which gives the space a slightly weathered and unique vibe. Once all of the chairs are down, the light from outside better cascades in and seems to make the room expand. Maggie is spraying down the glass, both the window and the displays at the counter. It only takes about an hour to make everything look presentable.

Maggie collapses into one of the chairs once the cleaning supplies are stored away, sighing and looking around. Eric remembers that she mentioned something about Holly leaving some things for him in the kitchen, so he goes into the back.

Immediately, he’s struck by the fact that this kitchen is not nearly as nice as Holly’s back in Boston. There are two ovens, one definitely newer. The other has seen better days. The counters are showing some wear and there are a few minor stains here and there. Eric’s eyes land on a collection of things that look much newer than the rest of the room, sitting in the corner.

Holly had outdone herself. Included in the supplies were new pie tins, cake pans, fixtures for display, utensils, and a pale pink standing mixer. He blinks tears away as he examines the gifts and mutters under his breath about never being able to thank that woman enough.

“Everything good back there?” Maggie’s voice calls gently from out front.

He clears his throat. “Everything’s great, just wanted to get a look at my new home!” He hears her laugh and chuckles to himself, leaning back against the counter and looking around. It wasn’t much, but it was still his.

* * *

“So you’re sure you can handle shopping yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am, I should be fine. The list we made will get me along just fine.”

“Alright. Well, you have my number if you end up needing anything.”

“Right. So, um…” he starts, a little embarrassed. “Would it be ok if I did a little bit of baking tomorrow when I bring everything in? You know, to ‘breathe some life into the place’?”

She laughs. “Eric, you sort of make the rules here. I’m here to help you from a managerial perspective, handle the books and everything, but that leaves you to do the important part. The baking.”

They start to walk as Maggie locks the door.

“Sounds good,” he replies, grinning. “I don’t know why, I just...have a good feeling about this.”

“Yeah,” she says gently, “me, too.”

* * *

**_@Eric_Bittle: Guess who’s super gay and is living his baking dreams (which also happen to be gay by association)? Hint: it is, in fact, me!!_ **

Eric hits send on the tweet and collapses back onto his bed, exhaling slowly and smiling to himself. He quickly looks over the shopping list again, making mental notes in his head about how much of each thing he’s going to need. Then, he pulls his laptop out to hunt for recipes. He opens his web browser to do some research, but after a moment of contemplation he closes out and opens a folder on his desktop, titled ‘Inspiration.’ It’s a collection of classic recipes, some that he’s made with his mama hundreds of times, others that were rare treats or hidden gems. Either way, all of those recipes hold sentimental value to him. It would only be right to break in the kitchen with something special.

He scrolls through the list, smiling at the memories that some of the entries elicit. When Eric was 5, he tried to make chocolate cupcakes when his parents weren’t home, only to burn them and then drop the bowl of frosting on the floor. There’s the macaron recipe he used for his first ever attempt, _God what an unnecessarily tricky cookie_. A recipe for multigrain bread that Suzanne used for years to make sandwiches for Dicky’s lunch. The only oatmeal raisin cookies that are acceptable to Eric. The classic Bittle birthday cake. Lemon bars, saved exclusively for hot summer days when the sky is clear and the bugs are screaming. Eric reaches the end of the list and goes cold.

Classic Bittle Apple: Canadian Edition.

He quickly shuts his laptop, pushing it away from him. He had forgotten that there was a new recipe in the collection as of about a month ago, and it feels like a sucker punch. His breath is gone for a moment. He finds himself crying, his head in his hands, glad he hasn’t opened the window yet to broadcast his emotions to the whole neighborhood. Despite the warmth of the afternoon, he climbs under the covers and sends a text to Lardo.

**hey, can I call you?**

He waits a minute, trying to get his breathing under control and stop the tears. He jumps when his phone buzzes in his hand.

**Lardo (ur gf): hold on, just finishing something up. I’ll call u as soon as I’m done!! :)**

After a few moments his phone starts to ring. He answers it and rests it on the side of his face, the returns his arms to their position, wrapped around him.

“Hey, Bits! How was your day?”

He considers trying to play it cool, but can’t pull himself together enough. He stifles a sob.

“Eric? You there?”

Finally, he manages to choke out: “I miss him.”

A pause on the other end of the line.

“Kiddo…” Her voice is full of sympathy. Eric hasn’t talked about Jack since his last day in Boston, has tried to tamp down any thoughts about what happened. He hasn’t cried since they broke up.

“I know, of course you do. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I...I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m fully ready yet,” he says between sobs. He recognizes how pitiful he must look and grabs the phone, sitting up and pulling his blanket around him. “I was going through my old recipes and I forgot that his pie is in there now and for some reason that just...fuck, that hurt so bad.”

She’s quiet still. He doesn’t blame her. What could she possibly say to help? What could anyone say?

“I got so used to getting stupid little texts from him every day, just little things that showed me he was thinking about me. It felt like he was always with me, and now, I just...I feel so alone.”

He grimaces, correcting himself. “Not that I don’t love and appreciate you and everything you do, but—“

“I know that’s not what you meant. Bits, I’m not gonna lie to you and say it’s gonna be easy. It’s gonna suck _a lot_ , but eventually it won’t anymore. Here’s some advice my mom gave me once, it’s always stuck with me. All it takes is seven months. No matter who he was, how long you were together, whatever. In seven months, you’re gonna wake up and realize that you’re okay. Until then, I’m here, and I want to emphasize that you’re allowed to be upset. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re annoying me, or being too much, or whatever. This is so much deeper than anything that happened last summer, and I totally get that.” She pauses. “You have Shitty, too, although his availability is limited, so I’m probably the better bet.”

Eric laughs through his tears, wiping his eyes.

“You’re gonna be _so_ busy running that bakery that soon, he’ll be the last thing on your mind.”

“I hope so,” he says, finally in control of his lungs again.

She sighs. “This is a huge transitional stage for you, but I predict so much growth for you, Bits. You’re gonna come out of this even stronger and more badass than before.”

“Pretty sure my badass level was at a zero before, so anything would be an improvement.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be supportive!”

“I know,” he replies, chuckling. “You really are the best.”

“I try!”

“I feel a lot better now.”

“See? There you go! A good cry can really work wonders, sometimes.”

“I hope so, I have a feeling there will be many more in my future,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sorry!” he says quickly. “So, what were you working on?”

Her tone shifts into one of excitement. “Oh shit, right! So I’m working on this new project, it’s a series of…”

Eric smiles and sniffles as she launches into a passionate explanation of her newest vision, not really sure at all what she’s talking about. He’s just happy to hear that she’s happy and feeling inspired.

* * *

The following day is a bit on the cooler side. In fact, Eric regrets not wearing something with long sleeves for his walk to the bakery. Once he’s picked up the groceries, though, the effort required to carry the bags warms him up. He considers calling Maggie and asking for a ride, but the store is only a few blocks away and his Bittle pride inevitably stops him.

The shopping had been easy; over the years Eric has become exceptionally good at navigating grocery stores. The list was practically memorized, save for the items he needed to pick up for today’s endeavor. He decided once in the store that the classic Bittle apple pie was a safe bet for a first trial, though he found it hard not to stop in his tracks when he passed a shelf with bottles of syrup…

Clouds are greedily taking up most of the skyspace, casting a sort of gloom throughout the streets, but Eric actually feels cheerful. After his talk with Lardo, he spent some time looking for new music and created a couple playlists, and, as always, did some hunting for recipe ideas. He did a face mask, had some wine, then went to bed early. A perfect recipe for a night of self care.

Eric rounds the corner and sees that the sign is already up, just as Maggie said it would be. As he approaches though, he can see that there are more words on it than he thought. He nearly drops all of the groceries when he finally reaches the front of the store and looks up at it.

_Holly’s and Bits’_

He places the bags on the ground while he fumbles around for his key, swinging the door open and rushing inside. He dumps the bags unceremoniously onto a counter in the kitchen and pulls out his phone, dialing Holly’s number. He can feel tears coming again, of a different variety today.

“Hi, honeybun! What’s up?”

“Holly’s and Bits’?”

“Is this a question?”

“Why is my name on the sign?”

She laughs. “You didn’t think I was gonna send your tush out to California and then bask in the glory of your hard work from back in Boston, did you? I told you, you own that bakery just as much as I do, so yes, your name is on the dang sign!”

He’s speechless for a second, staring at the floor.

“What if I let you down?”

Holly sighs. “Now don’t you dare even _start_ with that, Eric Bittle. I trust you implicitly. Why else would you be where you are? Worst case scenario, Mags is there and is perfectly willing to step in and try her hand at baking.”

“Try her hand?”

“Oh, yeah, Maggie’s never been much for baking, herself. She’s the type that sticks to box cake mix and store bought cookie dough.”

“This is blasphemy.”

“I know, I agree! Still, I’m sure she’d be willing to learn if you feel like things get to be too much. Honey, I thought we moved past this issue. You not having faith in yourself and all?”

He sighs. “This is completely different, Hol. Last time it was about a boy, this is about a whole damn bakery.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Silence. Then, “Y’all ready to open tomorrow?”

Eric starts to unpack the groceries, laying them all out on the counter until he decides where everything will stay permanently.

“More or less. Maggie warned me not to expect much for the first little while, so I’m hoping things are sorta slow going in so I can get into the swing of it.”

“Knowing your baking, it will only stay slow for so long!”

He chuckles, the phone pressed between his shoulder and cheek as he pulls out a large bag of flour.

“Oh, there’s another problem,” he jokes.

“What’s that?”

“Holly Ainsworth, what gave you the right to buy all of those goodies for me before you took off?”

He grins as she exhales in relief then starts to laugh. “After everything you’ve done for me, it truly was the least I could do.”

There’s a loud crash in the background, followed by a yelp. Holly groans. “ _I thought I told y’all to never carry more than two at a time!_ ” she screams to someone in the background. “I’m sorry honey, we have a minor cake-on-floor emergency, but call me later if you need to, you hear?”

“I will, ma’am. Thanks again. For everything.”

“Oh, don’t even mention it, sweetpea. Good luck!”

He pulls the phone away from his face, slipping it back into his pocket and surveying the army of ingredients now sitting before him. He bites his lip, not sure where to start. After thinking about it for a minute, he gives up and starts preheating the oven, peeling the apples, and preparing a pie crust. He pulls out his phone and starts up one of his new playlists, and his body does the rest of the work on the pie. It’s in the oven in no time.

Eric looks back and forth between the dishes he now has to clean and the ingredients that need to be organized. He opts to procrastinate even more and focus on the dishes first, humming along to his music as he works. Once they’re washed and dried, he sighs and starts looking through all of his drawers and cabinets in an attempt to get an idea of how much space he has to work with. Finally, he starts to put things away, one by one.

He’s up on tiptoes, trying to push a set of metal bowls into a high cabinet, when he hears a voice call out from up front.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

Eric gasps and almost drops the bowls, startled. He manages to get them away securely and cautiously exits the kitchen.

A man is standing at the counter, holding a piece of paper in his hands.

“Um. Hello!” Eric says nervously. _What the hell?_

“Hi!” the man replies, smiling. “I saw this flyer on my way home and figured I would stop in and check it out. You guys _are_ hiring, right?”

“Well, yeah, we are, I suppose.”

“Are you sure? You don’t seem sure.”

Eric shakes his head. “No, I mean, yes, we’re hiring. But those flyers can’t have gone out any earlier than last night, how the hell—“

“Still pretty empty in here, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, we haven’t even opened yet,” Eric splutters, still slightly baffled.

The man is annoyingly attractive. Tall, dark hair, tasteful scruff on his chin. He’s slim, but built well. _Why does he look so good in just jeans and a sweatshirt?_

“Oh. Hm. Do you have an application I can fill out or something?”

Eric is in full blown panic mode. He hadn’t really talked about it with Maggie yet, so he wasn’t sure how she wanted to handle the hiring process. He’s pretty sure they don’t have any kind of application, though.

“No, we don’t. Not yet, at least. I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Eric.” He steps out from behind the counter, sticking his arm out. The man takes it and shakes his hand.

“Caleb. Nice to meet you. You own the place?”

Eric pulls his arm away, scratching at the back of his head. “Sort of. Well, yes!”

Caleb raises an eyebrow, smirking. “I’m starting to feel like you’re some kind of psychopathic squatter or some shit.” He laughs and continues to look around. “Oh, wait. What’s that smell?”

“Pie,” Eric responds, feeling awkward.

“Damn. Smells good, dude! _Now_ I can believe you work here.”

“Thank you, I think?”

“So what’s with the name then?”

Eric frowns. “What’s wrong with my name?”

Caleb stares blankly for a second. “I meant the name of the bakery. What the hell does it mean?”

“Oh, that!” Eric says, flushing with embarrassment. “Well, Holly is my co-owner, but she lives on the East Coast.”

“Then...that makes you...Bits?”

Eric chuckles. “Bittle is my last name. Last summer some friends of mine sort of poked fun at me because of my height and started calling me Bitty.”

Caleb looks unimpressed. “I think I’ll stick with Eric.”

_This guy is sort of an asshole._

“Anyway, I can pass along your information to the person in charge of hiring and she’ll be in touch. I imagine it’ll be sort of informal, maybe an interview or something?”

Caleb sighs. “Yeah, fine, works for me.” He pulls a pen out of his pocket and scribbles his name, phone number, and email address on the flyer, then shoves it into Eric’s hand. “Any idea when I’ll be hearing from her?”

Eric shrugs. “Opening day is tomorrow, but we don’t think we're going to be too busy. Probably in the next day or two.”

“Alright, cool. Gotta take off, but it was nice meeting you,” Caleb says as he turns and heads toward the door.

“Likewise.”

“Cool accent, by the way.”

And then he’s gone. Eric sits down on the floor, feeling flustered beyond belief. He was a jerk, but _damn_ , was he cute. He sighs and gets himself up, folding up the paper and putting it in his pocket. At least he was right about coming in a day early to get the fresh baked smell setting in before they open tomorrow.

Once the pie is out of the oven and cool, and all of the ingredients are put away, Eric takes a seat and enjoys a slice, storing the rest of the pie in the fridge. It’s not quite the same eating it alone, and the crust didn’t crisp up quite as much as he would’ve liked; with each bite, he takes note of what he needs to change about his method when working with the new oven. Finally, he washes the plate and stores it away, taking one last look around him before locking up. He stops for a moment to gaze up at the sign, squinting as the sun peeks through the layer of clouds.

Tomorrow is the day his life has led up to.


	2. how can i try to love someone new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by: [How by Regina Spektor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mBfW-CdgLE)

“Maybe the open sign isn’t bright enough?” Eric suggests, knowing damn well that isn’t the issue.

Maggie sighs. “Like I said, Eric, because getting everything together was such a whirlwind, we didn’t really have time to do any advertising.”

A passerby stops for a second and looks up at the sign. Eric straightens up from his position leaning against the counter, smiling. Hoping. She scratches her head and continues on her way. Eric groans and slumps down again.

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing,” Maggie mutters. Eric straightens up again.

“You’re damn right she doesn’t.”

He practically runs out from behind the counter, grabbing a chair and dragging it toward the door. Interestingly enough, Maggie doesn’t ask questions. He thrusts the door open, basking in the warm glow of the morning sun. He jams the chair up against the door and swiftly turns back into the bakery.

Things still look a little barren inside. There are two pies sitting in the display case, along with a tray of cookies and a few muffins. Nothing too fancy. On the wall behind the counter are a few loaves of bread. Eric has already made a mental note to himself to invest in a toaster in order to cater more to the morning crowd.

“Smart idea,” Maggie finally says, gesturing to the chair. “The smell alone should be enough to lure in a few curious customers.”

Eric nods as he returns to his spot next to the register, feeling proud. Sure enough, the next person to walk by does a double take, and… Shit. Keeps walking. But Eric had seen a flash of intrigue on his face, a slight raise of an eyebrow. A mental bookmark. He’ll be back.

Once again, Eric collapses onto the counter, crying out in frustration. “This makes me miss rush hour at Holly’s,” he pouts into his arm. “I’d rather be working my ass off than sitting here and wondering why a minute suddenly feels longer than sixty seconds.”

Maggie swats at his arm.

“Sorry, I know, I’m being negative.”

“No,” she whispers, “look.”

Eric lifts his head slightly, peering over his arm. A woman is walking in with a little girl. He smiles broadly as Maggie gives him a little thumbs up.

“Hi, y’all! Welcome to Holly’s and Bits’!”

The woman smiles at him as they approach. “Morning!” she replies, a little flustered. “How long have you guys been here?” she asks, looking around.

Damn it. They should’ve thought about getting an ‘opening day’ sign or something.

“Not long at all, you’re actually catching us on day one!”

She gives him a surprised look. “Huh. Well the smell you’re blasting out onto the street is awesome.”

“Mommy, look! They have cookies!”

The woman laughs, shaking her head. “Callie, cookies aren’t a good breakfast. But they do look delicious,” she says, turning back to Eric.

“Thank you, ma’am. Baked fresh this morning!”

She smiles, bending down to look into the display case. “Ooh, look, sweetie! Muffins!”

The little girl pouts. “But I want a cookie!”

“Does Daddy ever buy you cookies for breakfast?”

She nods, smiling mischievously.

The woman laughs. “Don’t lie to me! If he does, your father and I need to have a serious chat.” She stands again. “We’ll just take one of the blueberry muffins, thanks.”

“Sure thing!” Eric says cheerfully, sliding the glass open and using a paper sheet to grab it.

“You guys don’t have coffee, do you?”

He smiles apologetically. “No, we don’t. Is that something a lot of people would want, do you think?”

She shrugs as she hands Maggie a $5 bill. “Might be nice. There’s a place down the street that sells coffee, but their muffins don’t smell as good as yours.”

Eric laughs as he hand it to her. “We’ll have to look into that, then. How’s your morning been?”

“Stressful.” She gestures over her shoulder to her daughter, who is playing with a chair, pulling it away and pushing it back toward the table. “I’m not used to this. She just started kindergarten. My husband is on a trip right now and he’s been handling the morning walks to school so far. We didn’t have time for breakfast, so this sort of saved my life,” she admits.

“Well, I’m glad we could be of service! Y’all live around here, then?”

She nods. “Just a few blocks away.”

“Hopefully we’ll be seeing more of you!”

She sighs. “You might see me again later today, actually. If she doesn’t get a cookie after school, I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it.”

“Kids. Such simple demands, but when they know what they want, they _know_ ,” Maggie chimes in. Eric glances at her in confusion. To his knowledge she’s single and without any children, but she seems to be speaking from experience.

“That’s the truth. It was nice meeting you, Mister…?”

“Oh!” Eric says, reaching over the counter to shake her hand. “Eric! Bittle; I’m the Bits,” he says with a laugh.

“So, you must be Holly?”

Maggie shakes her head. “Holly’s my older sister, actually. I’m Maggie. Thanks so much for stopping in!”

“Like I said, you’re the ones who saved me today.”

There’s a crash from behind her as the chair falls over. Callie laughs and claps. “Mommy, it fell!”

“Callie, honey, please be careful!” she says to her daughter, sighing. “I don’t want her to be late, so we’re gonna take off,” she says, turning back to the counter. “Good luck with the rest of your opening, you two!”

She rights the fallen chair and collects her daughter, taking her hand and guiding her toward the door.

“Oh, ma’am? I never got your name!”

“I’m Michelle, thanks again!” she calls over her shoulder.

Eric smiles as they exit, hearing Michelle’s voice convincing her daughter that she can wait for a cookie until later as they continue on their way.

“Well, it’s official! We just made our first sale,” Maggie practically sings.

Eric beams at her, pulling up a stool.

“How do you feel?”

“Ready.”

* * *

 

The rest of the day drags, but not unbearably so. Every so often someone will stop outside and Eric perks up, fingers crossed. Most go on their way, but he hopes that they plan to return at some point. Only two more people come in and actually buy something. Both take their goodies to go.

“People will start to pass the word along, I’m sure,” Maggie says around 2 PM. He nods groggily.

“Do you reckon we can close the door now? It’s a little warm in here,” he says, trying and failing to suppress a yawn.

“I guess it would be nice to let things cool down a bit.”

Eric hops down from the stool. Before he can reach the door someone is walking in.

“Oh!” Eric says. The guy who had come in yesterday was already back. What was his name again? Caleb?

“Hey,” he says flatly.

“Back so soon?”

Caleb shrugs. “I was bored and craving something bad for me. Plus, this place is pretty close.”

“Well come on in!” Eric gestures behind him as he grabs the chair and lets the door swing shut behind him. He calls to Maggie, “This is the gentleman I was telling you about this morning! He’s looking for a job and saw that we’re hiring!”

Caleb approaches the counter. “Name’s Caleb, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise! I was planning on contacting you later tonight, so this works out nicely.”

Eric returns the chair to its table and joins Maggie behind the counter again, returning to his stool.

“Figured I should stop by and check things out before I actually commit to anything. For all I know, your food could suck.”

Eric frowns. “Well, that was rather rude.”

Caleb shrugs. “I didn’t say that it does, just that it _could_. Gimme one of those cookies and prove me wrong!”

“Fine, but you still have to pay!” Eric says. He won’t lose any business just because some jerk questioned his baking skills.

“Fine.”

Maggie glances sideways at Eric as he overdramatically removes a paper sheet from the box and slides the glass open, picking the smallest cookie from the bunch and handing it to Caleb with a hyperbolic smile.

“Enjoy! And you will, by the way.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He takes a small bite of the cookie. Eric waits, trying not to show any signs on his face. Caleb takes another bite of the cookie, a bigger one this time. His cheeks are a little red.

“Alright, I admit, it’s a damn good cookie.”

Eric laughs triumphantly. “You’re hired!”

“He’s kidding,” Maggie supplies. “You _are_ kidding, right?” she whispers.

He waves her off; yes, of course he’s kidding. They don’t know anything about this guy yet.

“You really made these?” Caleb asks, already almost finished.

Eric huffs. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because you look human.”

 _Oh_. Now Eric’s blushing.

“Uh-um, well, it’s an old recipe of my mama’s, so those cookies might as well be coming right from the South,” he stutters.

Caleb just hums as he finishes the last chunk. “Good shit. So, what do I have to do to get in on this?”

Eric turns to Maggie.

“Well, um,” she starts. “We could do an interview. Like, right now, actually, if you have time?”

He pulls out his phone and looks at the time. “I mean I don’t have a resumé with me or anything, but if that’s not a problem…”

“We can take care of that later,” Maggie says, stepping out from behind the counter. “We just want to start with something casual and informal, make sure we all get along, stuff like that.”

“And what exactly are you looking for, here? What would I be doing? I’ve never really baked before, but I was a waiter throughout college and for a year or so afterwards.”

Eric chimes in. “Well, I’m the one who does all the baking, anyway!”

“Right, something along the lines of a waiter would actually be super helpful.” Maggie and Caleb are now sitting at a table. The air in the room is wrought with awkwardness. “Eric? Are you joining us?”

He sighs and looks at the door. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

“So, Caleb, why don’t you tell us about yourself to start?”

“Yeah, sure. Well, I’m 24, I’m actually from Washington State, but after college I stayed in California. I went to school at UC Berkeley for music and writing; I’m a musician now. Well, kind of. _Struggling_ musician would probably be more accurate.”

Maggie hums. “How did you end up in San Francisco? Wouldn’t you want to go closer to L.A.?”

He shrugs. “That felt a little too far for me. Plus I’m gay, so I feel really comfortable around here. That earns me extra points in here, right? Baking and gay stereotypes and whatever?”

Eric feels himself blush a little; Caleb glances right at him when he says that. _Way to be subtle, Bittle. Outed by your own circulatory system_.

“So you just sort of need something to support you while you wait for the music thing to work out?” Maggie says quickly, reeling the conversation in.

“Basically, yeah. The industry these days is literally _the worst_ , it’s impossible to get gigs anywhere, and people are trying to stay away from signing a typical, dark-haired white guy at the moment. Not that I don’t think we could use a ton more diversity and representation in the music business, but unfortunately that sort of affects me negatively. It’s not strictly about talent anymore, I guess.”

Huh. Every sentence out of this guy’s mouth pulls Eric in a different direction. Even so, he fights the urge to say _well, have you considered that the_ amount _of talent might be your actual problem?_ He has no idea what this guy’s actually capable of.

“Hmm. Well it seems like you have a pretty good head on your shoulders,” Maggie comments, leaning back a bit. “You mentioned that you have experience as a waiter?”

Caleb groans. “Yeah, I actually did that mostly in anticipation of life _after_ college; I got lucky and most of my tuition was covered by scholarships and stuff. I knew after I graduated I was gonna have a hard time with the music stuff, so I saved up a bunch to make sure I wouldn’t get stuck. I tried to keep doing it after I graduated but it got to be too much. Plus the restaurant where I worked was awful. So I quit and moved here!”

Maggie looks at Eric, impressed. Eric gives her a tiny shrug. Sure. Fine. He’s great.

“What’s your availability like?”

“Honestly, whatever you need it to be. I’m not doing a whole lot right now. I need the cash. Plus I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that smell,” he says, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. “It’s like you found the recipe for happiness or something.”

Maggie laughs. “It is pretty fantastic, isn’t it?”

Eric stands abruptly, nearly knocking his chair backward. “Well, I think we’ve heard enough! We have your information already, so we’ll be in contact.” He forces a smile. Caleb arches an eyebrow and stands slowly.

“O...kay. Good to see you again, Eric, and nice to meet you, Maggie.”

Maggie stands and shakes his hand. “Same to you! Thanks for coming in.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, glancing at Eric one more time before exiting the bakery.

Maggie turns to him, frowning. “What the hell was all that about?”

His eyes widen a little bit as her anger causes a familiar twang to creep into her voice.

“What do you mean?”

“What do _I_ mean? You were indifferent, and then rude.”

Eric huffs. “I don’t know, he just rubs me the wrong way.” Quite honestly, he can’t really put his finger on the feeling. Clearly, Caleb had proven himself to be a perfectly capable potential employee. Something about his attitude is just off-putting.

“I think you should apologize,” Maggie says, brushing past him and taking her place at the register. “Who knows if anybody else is going to be interested in the job? Plus, he seems more than qualified for it, so I think we should just give it to him.”

Eric stares at her, his mouth open a little bit. “Just like that? You don’t want to interview anybody else?”

She sighs, sitting back on her stool. “Look, if things go well for us, we’re going to need another employee or two eventually, anyway. If things don’t work out with Caleb, we can always let him go. I just don’t see the point in busting our asses to find someone else when he’s already here. And when he starts, I don’t want there to be any tension.”

His jaw is still open. “You’re serious?”

She nods, not breaking eye contact. He groans and throws his hands up, spinning around and running out the door.

* * *

 

“Hey! Hey, wait up!” Eric calls, out of breath. Against his own will, he’s chased Caleb down the street. Caleb turns around, frowning.

“Oh. Hey?” he says, asking it as if a question.

Eric pauses for a second, his hands on his knees. If he had only gone jogging more last summer with…

“Everything good?”

He nods, taking a deep breath. “I just...wanted to apologize,” he mutters, not quite making eye contact. In the afternoon sun, though, he can see that Caleb’s eyes are a beautiful and deep blue.

“Apologize?” Caleb asks, condescension in his voice.

Eric almost glares at him but controls himself. “Yes. I sort of acted like an ass, and that’s not me at all. So, I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool,” he replies. _Why was he so damn nonchalant all the time?_ “I understand that you feel threatened or whatever, but like you said—“

“Excuse me?” Eric allows the glare to come through now. “Threatened? By you? I don’t think so,” he lies, because, _oh, yeah, that’s exactly what it is_.

Caleb puts his hands up and chuckles. “Then why are you immediately in defense mode every time I speak?”

“I-you-well,” he tries, but can’t think of anything clever to say.

“Look,” Caleb says, sighing. “It’s clear to me that you’re out of your element, here. I know that feeling, I remember what that’s like.”

Eric rolls his eyes. He can’t stand being talked down to.

“But it seems like you know what you’re doing with the whole baking thing. I mean, obviously you’re at least good at that, so I don’t doubt that this could go well for you or whatever. I’m tall, I’ve been around for a while, I’m confident… I get how that could set off some alarms in your pretty little blond head, is all I’m saying.”

“Are you finished?” Eric asks, now too angry to even be intimidated.

“Yep, all done,” Caleb says with a smirk.

“Good. You’ve got the fucking job. Be there tomorrow at six. Your first assignment is to bring coffee for myself and Maggie.”

Caleb twists his face in disgust. “Are you kidding me? You’re using me as a go-for?”

“I mean, I could always tell Maggie that you turned it down.” Now it was his turn to smile.

Caleb groans. “No, no… Fuck.” He pauses. “Fine. I’m in.”

“Glad to hear it. Maggie probably likes cream and sugar in hers,” Eric says as he starts to turn around.

“What about you?”

“I like mine straight,” Eric says as he starts to walk away.

“I doubt that!” Caleb calls after him facetiously, then mutters something under his breath. Eric is glad he’s already facing the other way, because his whole face is bright red. _What a fucking piece of work_.

* * *

 “So?”

Eric is practically pouting as the door swings shut behind him. “I told him it’s his. He’ll be here tomorrow morning. I told him to get coffee for us.”

She crosses her arms. “Really? Using him as a go-for?”

“If he wants the job so much, he has to earn it,” Eric says defensively as she echoes his exact sentiment. “Anything happen while I was gone?” he asks, quickly changing the subject.

“Nope,” Maggie sighs. “Whole lot of nothing.”

This pattern continues for the rest of the day, which drags its feet. Michelle and Callie do, in fact, stop by and purchase a cookie to split. Again, they take it to go, so they’re only there briefly. Eric is itching to go back into the kitchen and start churning out some pies, but none of the two he had baked already have sold at all yet. He starts making mental notes of everything they might eventually need: napkin holders, benches for outside, a coffee maker, a toaster, some decor. He finds himself biting his nails all day, tapping his feet. The afternoon feels like a weight on his shoulders; he wants the day to end, but he’s not looking forward to working alongside their new employee in the morning.

Closing time finally rolls around at 5 PM. Maggie and Eric discuss staying open later in the future, but for now it seems reasonable. Eric sticks one of the pies in the fridge. Maggie takes the other home with her. Looking back, it really isn’t all that bad for a first day. The slow pace gives them time to become familiar with the space. Eric loves interacting with customers, which can be difficult if things are busy. It might be good to build some relationships within the community while that’s still feasible.

He can’t help but look up at the sign again after he locks the door. He hasn’t processed it yet. It’s not real. It’s happening, but he isn’t there yet. Even though his name is written in a bright, curly font in front of his eyes, the bakery still belongs to Holly in his mind. It will for a long time.

* * *

 

“Overall, it went over pretty smoothly.”

Eric is sitting in the bathtub, which is draped in a comical amount of bubbles. Two candles are lit: ocean breeze and fresh linen. A glass of red wine sits in his right hand, his phone in his left. A playlist of his favorite songs plays gently in the background. His face is covered with a dark mud mask which is rapidly drying; still, he’s careful not to get any on his phone, which is hovering just next to his face.

“I’m so proud of you!” Lardo says. He smiles and sits up a little bit, resting his glass on the ground next to the open bottle. “I guess it’s still way too soon to really gauge how much business you guys are gonna have, huh?”

Eric laughs. “It’s been _one day_ Lardo, it’s gonna take some time. I’m confident though. We had a couple of really nice customers, and…” He pauses.

“And...what?” she pries.

Eric exhales. “We already have a new employee.”

“What? That’s great! How did it happen so fast?”

“Maggie put out flyers a couple days ago, and this guy just happened to stumble across one. He came in, like, right away.”

“Oh, it’s a guy?” Lardo asks, her tone coy. “Is he cute?”

Eric pauses. “Yes,” he admits, “but he also seems to have a bit of an attitude.”

“Your favorite!” she jokes.

“Ha ha,” he replies sarcastically, finishing his wine and pouring another glass. “I’m hoping he mellows out once he realizes he doesn’t have to impress me.”

She sighs. “Why can’t things ever be easy for you?”

“I wonder the same thing! All the damn time! Trouble just follows me everywhere, I can’t help it. When all is said and done, that damn bakery belongs to me—and Holly of course—so I won’t be afraid to put my foot down.”

“I’m confused, why did you hire him if you don’t like him?”

Eric takes another _long_ sip of wine. “Wonderful question. Maggie seems to think his work history makes him so qualified that passing on him would be a mistake.” He rolls his eyes as he finishes the second glass. He puts it down, done for the moment.

“Like there aren’t gonna be a thousand people begging to work for you soon enough?”

“I don’t know, Lardo. He does seem to know what he’s doing. Or he’s good at faking it. Is there really a difference?”

She hums.

“Anyway, I have a good feeling about all of this! Gosh, a mom and her little girl were our first customers and they were just the _cutest_!” He launches into a small recap of each customer, wiggling his toes against the wall of the bath and soaking in the warmth of the water.

“Sounds like not a lot of kitchen time so far.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot different than Holly’s. We were constantly in need of more goodies to sell, but I think it’s gonna be a while before we hit that point. So, um… Have you heard anything? You know?”

Her tone shifts. “About Jack, you mean?”

“Yeah. That.”

They had been large glasses of wine. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be asking.

“Well, from what Shits has told me, they start their training camp on Thursday. So far, not much has happened otherwise in terms of the team.”

“But, um, like, how is _he_?” Eric asks, biting his lip and pushing the bubbles around absentmindedly. He suddenly feels more naked, more vulnerable. Suddenly wide open.

She sighs. “Even if I knew, I don’t really know if that’s my information to share. Either way, Shitty hasn’t told me much about what’s going on with him personally.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Eric says quickly, accidentally splashing some water out of the tub. He swears quietly and lets himself sink in as far as he dares with the phone in his hand.

“I’m sure he’s thinking about you, too. Knowing him, there’s no way…” she trails off. There’s a small comfort in the idea that he’s on Jack mind. A small amount of worry that he’s _weighing_ on Jack’s mind. They hadn’t left on the best terms, and clearly Jack didn’t deal well when he didn’t get closure.

“Yeah.” It’s practically a whisper. For a minute, the only sounds are the soft roar of the candles and the occasional droplet of water falling out of the faucet and through the foam. Lardo is breathing quietly.

“Do you need anything, Bits? I’m sort of losing my mind with not a lot to do over here. I could get a care package together or something.”

He giggles. “I’ve only been gone for a week. You sound like my mama.”

“Is that a no?”

He pauses. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Sweet. What do you want?”

“Why don’t you surprise me?”

“That sounds a little bit like a friendship challenge.”

“Well, you asked for it!” He grips his phone tight as he leans forward and pulls the drain up. His fingers and toes are starting to wrinkle.

“Fair enough. I’m gonna make you the best damn care package—no, make isn’t even a good enough verb. _Curate_.”

He rolls his eyes, wincing slightly as he almost cracks his face mask. “How extra of you.”

“Coming from you? I bet whatever you’re doing right now is the absolute _most_.”

He looks around at the candles, the bubbles, the wine, and almost hurts himself laughing. “You’re correct, and I resent you for it!”

She laughs with him and for just a second, he’s whisked back to the house in Boston, back to summer nights lying in the backyard and looking up at the stars. Afternoons curled up in the reading nook. He even misses Smashfest, though a shitshow it was. He misses Lardo hugs, and cuddling with Shitty, and the feeling of a warm, strong body pressed up against his as his lids give up for the night. The tears come out of nowhere, falling through the bubbles. This time, though, he isn’t taken over by full-body sobs that snatch the air away from him. He smiles gently and shakes his head. Maybe this is _some_ kind of progress.

“Well, I have some brainstorming to do, then. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay bud?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you then.”

He sniffles as he sets the phone down next to him, cursing as he realizes he’s set it down in the puddle he created moments before. He picks it up and shakes it off, sliding it further away. He wraps his arms around his knees and rests his forehead there, no longer caring about how intact the facemask stays. He stays there, breathing slowly, until the water is completely drained and he’s left with just a tub full of bubbles, aromatic and pretty, but ultimately useless.

* * *

 

Jack’s eyes are bluer than ever, looking past Eric’s and right into his mind. They’re back at the house, everybody else is asleep. It’s a dream, he knows that, but it feels more like a memory. The feeling of Jack’s large hands against his body, the slow and sure in and out of his breath, the way he can never seem to pull Eric close enough. A casual kiss pressed to the crown of his head, a thumb gently rubbing back and forth between his shoulder blades. No words. Contact, touch. That says it all. He can still feel the power, the sparks, the pure electricity that overtook his veins every time their bodies made contact. Nothing affected him more than when Jack would carefully, so, so, carefully, tilt his chin upward to kiss him. A simple press of lips, a quiet laugh, a whispered affirmation. A fortress around them, impenetrable, sure, sturdy.

His eyes widen as Jack’s body is wrenched away from his violently, as the walls crumble rapidly around them. He can still see the pinpricks of blue in Jack’s eyes and suddenly he’s falling backward, nothing but darkness below him.

Eric wakes up in a panic as his alarm begins to blare, immediately shaking the sleep off. His head hurts slightly—that’s the wine—and there’s a knot in his chest even his old Boy Scout leader wouldn’t be able to undo. He shudders, blinking away the image of Jack’s horrified face. He can still feel the gentle press of Jack’s fingers on his face, Jack’s lips against his. He nearly crushes his phone with the force used to hit the snooze button, then throws himself face down into his pillow.

* * *

 

“It’s not too hot, is it? Or did you change your mind, and now you need some cream and sugar?” Caleb shoots as Eric takes a sip of his coffee. Eric closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“No, it’s just fine. Thank you.”

Caleb looks slightly disappointed, as if hoping Eric would push back again. No, he’s too tired for it today. The sun is only just starting to show itself, casting a cool, soft glow on the streets outside, gently coaxing the world awake. A fresh batch of muffins have just come out of the oven. Their welcoming fragrance is drifting out from the kitchen where they’re cooling, mingling with the dark taste of the coffee on his tongue. Day two begins.

As it turns out, Caleb is actually fairly good with the actual customers—at least in terms of manners and attitude. However, half of their customers today also happen to be his friends. Eric can’t help but feel flattered that Caleb insisted they pay the bakery a visit strictly based on a cookie, and this also pisses him off. He wants to dislike Caleb so much, and he’s given Eric enough reason so far. Still, sometimes he says or does something small that even Eric has to admit is likeable.

Around 1 PM a small group of guys comes in, greeting Caleb excitedly as he wipes down a table. They approach the counter and Eric smiles, trying to swallow any feelings of intimidation.

“Howdy, gentlemen! How are y’all today?”

There’s a chorus of ‘good’ and ‘doing fine’ as they look in the display and at the shelves behind the counter. The majority of them get something small; cookies, mostly. As they’re paying for them, the last guy is still making up his mind, leaning against the counter.

“What do you recommend?” he asks.

“Well, you could be a follower and just get a cookie like the rest of your friends, there. _Or_ , you could try a piece of my famous apple pie and make your day an excellent one!”

The guy smiles. In the moment, Eric feels smaller than usual. Him and his friends are an attractive bunch, most or all of them gay by Eric’s estimation. Not surprising given their location, but still very different for him. Plus, this guy is fucking cute. He stands out because of his red-orange hair.

“Sounds like it would be a mistake not to at least give it a try.”

Eric tries to hide the red in his cheeks, nodding. “I’ll grab a plate for you!” He turns to retrieve it from the cabinet underneath the shelves and almost lets out an involuntary squeaking noise when he hears from behind him, “Nice buns.”

He whips around, the plate in his hand. “Excuse me?”

The guy gestures to the bread behind him innocently. “The...bread...looks really good. Super fresh or whatever.”

Eric’s eyes are a little wide as he pulls out a pie and removes a slice, his hands shaking. He doesn’t say a word but instead slides the plate over to Maggie, who is caught up in a conversation with one of the other customers. He almost jumps as the guy leans in.

“I’m totally kidding, I meant your ass,” he says in a low voice before moving over to the register, leaving Eric astounded, slightly offended and confused, but most importantly, somewhat flattered? He clears his throat and brushes his hands on his apron, sliding the pie back into the display and trying to control the blood that’s rushed violently to his cheeks.

* * *

 

The comment sticks with him all day, nagging at something in the back of his mind. Some of Shitty’s and Lardo’s comments from over the summer join it, convincing him that he is, in fact, an attractive human. Still, he doesn’t really have any experience with guys flirting with him. At least, not that he knows of. Picking up on little cues like that is _not_ exactly his speciality, but this guy had been pretty damn straightforward. And for no reason, too. It’s not like he asked Eric for his number or attempted to continue the conversation. He said it just because he could.

Unfortunately, the rest of day two is even slower than the day prior, so Eric has a lot of time to think about it. He can’t help but wonder why Jack has never really commented on his appearance when they were together. Granted, that wasn’t really his style in general, but it still would’ve been nice to have some explicit validation from him. In fact, Eric feels himself getting mad at Jack. He was always sort of lacking in terms of verbal communication, which was not exactly ideal. The last few days of the summer play over and over in his head. Jack had actively ignored him as opposed to facing the impending separation, and Eric had to literally force him to say goodbye.

Even despite this, he’s paralyzed by the thought of ever trying to be with anybody else.

* * *

 

“Any plans for after we close up?” Caleb asks as he wipes down the counter for the fifth time in an hour.

Eric shrugs, grabbing the towel from him. “I told you, it’s clean already. And no, none.” He tosses the towel right back down onto the counter.

“Interested in grabbing a beer or something?” he asks casually. There’s still something in his eyes, though, that makes Eric wary.

“I don’t know,” he replies slowly, carefully. “I’ve never actually been to a bar before, not sure if it’s my thing.”

Caleb scoffs. “No way.”

“I’ve just never been interested, I suppose.”

He bites the inside of the cheek. “I’ll pay.”

Eric quirks an eyebrow, leaning back against the shelf behind him. “What makes you think I need your—“

“It’s not about that. You’re just so uptight, I think it could benefit you to go out and loosen up a little.”

Eric frowns, stepping forward again. “I don’t really think it’s fair to make assumptions like that. If you couldn’t tell, I’ve had a lot going on recently. Sure, I’m a little stressed out, but not uptight…”

Caleb smiles a little. “Right, totally sounds that way. What do you say, though?”

“Drinking beer and spending time with you, what could beat that?”

“No need to be a dick about it, just say no if you’re not interested.”

Eric pauses, considering for a minute. For some reason, part of him actually _is_ interested in finding out more about Caleb. Plus, it’s hard to say no to free stuff, especially when the stuff is alcohol.

“Whatever, I’ll come. But I won’t stay for long, I have to be here early tomorrow, and so do you!”

Caleb smirks. “Sounds good to me.” He takes the towel back and walks away, whistling to himself. Eric’s arms are crossed defensively and he realizes he’s frowning slightly, so he shakes his head and starts to look at everything they haven’t sold yet. Maggie gives him a strange look but says nothing.

* * *

 “Do you come here a lot?” Eric asks Caleb as they take two stools at the bar.

“Nah, not really. I’m also not super into the bar scene, honestly.”

Eric stares at him blankly. “Why the hell are we here…”

“I don’t know, I thought it could be fun!” Caleb says defensively. “Plus, I was in the mood for really shitty french fries, and boy, do they have ‘em here.”

Eric rolls his eyes, drumming his fingers as he glances around them. Being with Caleb really has him on edge.

“Will you fucking relax? Are you worried about seeing someone you know?”

Eric sighs. Highly doubtful, Caleb and Maggie are basically the only people he knows on this side of the country. He smiles as his phone buzzes and he sees a text from Lardo.

**Lardo (ur gf): yooooo Bitty boy, how was day 2?!! you’ve gotta be closed by now right…**

He quickly types out his response, glad to feel like Lardo is with him, even if it’s just through his phone.

**yeah we closed up a little while ago. in a bit of a strange situation, the guy we just hired kinda abducted me to come to a bar with him?**

**Lardo (ur gf): wtf… the same guy who immediately pissed you off?**

**that’s the one! idk how to feel about him quite yet. i’ll def have some updates later tho**

**Lardo (ur gf): i am super intrigued…..who is this mystery man…..**

**lmao i have a feeling i’m about to find out some more. i’ll probs call you later!**

**Lardo (ur gf): yeah sounds good Bits!! just be careful like how much do you know about this guy?**

**oh my god can u relax i am a whole ass adult i’m gonna be FINE**

**Largo (ur gf): I KNOW IM SORRY ok have a good time!!! also wtf a bar? who even are you anymore?**

**i’m only here because he’s paying, i feel like that needs to be said**

**Lardo (ur gf): oh thank god i was worried you were going all straight on me**

Eric laughs and rolls his eyes, eliciting a look from Caleb.

“Sorry, talking to a friend from home.”

Caleb shrugs. “No problem. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile genuinely.”

Eric sighs and locks his phone. “I am a goddamn bundle of joy, I’ll have you know.”

“You can say that all you want,” Caleb laughs, “but I’m just gonna assume you’re a hardass until you prove it.”

Eric is about to respond when the bartender finally addresses them.

“Hey, Caleb. The usual?”

Eric frowns, looking at Caleb quizzically.

“Perfect. One extra beer, though, for my friend here.”

The bartender nods and makes his way to another customer.

“I thought you said you didn’t come here often?”

Caleb shrugs. “‘Often’ is subjective.”

“I guess…”

“Alright, so why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I feel like that would make you seem more...human.”

Offended, Eric responds. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means all I know about you is that you have a cute accent and can bake like a motherfucker. You could be some kind of southern pie robot.”

That hits him a little harder than it should. Jack had always been the one that they joked was a robot.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

Before Caleb can answer, Eric’s attention is pulled to the television nearest them, hanging on the wall.

_‘...rumors that the Providence Falconers are considering playing Jack Zimmermann as a starter, despite the fact that he’s a brand new recruit. Training camps are starting up at the end of the week, so we’ll probably have a better idea after that. It would be a risky decision, but if Zimmermann plays anything like his father did, I can see why they would want to push him...’_

His knuckles are stark white. It feels like a hand has closed around his throat, like something heavy’s smashed into his chest and made its place there. He almost cries out when a hand touches his shoulder.

“Eric? You alright?”

“Um, I, I just,” he tries to say. It feels like his lungs are denying the air he’s so desperately trying to supply to them. “I’ll be right back,” he manages to gasp.

* * *

The door to the bathroom stall slams shut behind him. He sits down, doing everything he can to breathe, trying to block out the images of Jack that had drifted so carelessly across the screen. His hands working before his mind, he pulls out his phone and composes a new text.

**Hey. I don’t really know where we stand right now, but I just wanted to say that I’m happy for you. I just saw something about you on TV at some bar and just… I’m proud of how far you’ve come and how much you’ve had to go through to get to this point, and you deserve so much and I’m just sorry I can’t be there to experience that with you. Hope you’re doing ok. I miss you.**

He stares at the text through watery eyes, his finger hovering over the send button. After a few minutes, he shakes his head angrily and deletes the text, slipping his phone back into his pocket and drying his eyes. He takes a few deep, even breaths. When all is said and done, Jack is just another person. Who happens to have been brought up on TV at a bar across the country. Who’s finally living his dreams, too. Eric knows Jack, though. If those rumors are true, that must mean Jack’s already pushing himself. It’s not his job anymore—it was never really his _job_ —but Eric can’t help but worry that everything is going to come crashing down around Jack again.

* * *

 “So, like, what the fuck?” Caleb asks. Something about his tone offsets his poor phrasing. Clearly, he’s a bit concerned.

Eric smiles, embarrassed. “I’m really sorry. That’s the first time that’s ever really happened, I just saw something that reminded me of someone, and…” he trails off.

“I get it. If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”

Caleb shrugs, taking a sip of beer. “Whatever works for you. You absolutely _must_ try one of these fries, though.”

Eric chuckles and nods. “Fine. Thank you, by the way.”

Caleb waves a hand at him. “Don’t mention it, You guys gave me that job after one little interview, this is the least I could do. And before you say anything, I did invite Maggie, too. She had some things to take care of.”

Eric nods, taking a sip of his own beer. Not really his drink of choice; it tends to make him think of summertime and partying and his friends back home...wherever home even is, anymore.

“Your friends seemed nice,” Eric says as he cautiously tries a french fry. It’s more like a shot of straight fryer grease.

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool guys. Jeremy is an absolute idiot, though, and Mark can be sort of a dick at times. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to flirt with you. First time I met him, he correctly guessed what kind of underwear I was wearing. Down to the color,” he says, shuddering.

Eric’s cheeks go a little pink once more, but he blames the beer this time. Or something. “Was he the one with the red hair?”

“Yep, that’s him. He’s a sweet guy, but he _will_ fuck anything with a pulse. Nothing wrong with that, I guess, but… Anyway, what’s your situation? Any guys in your life? Or girls, I guess? Sorry, I’ve just been sorta assuming so far.”

“I noticed. You assumed correctly, though,” Eric says, sighing. He finishes his beer, much to Caleb’s surprise. “To answer your question, no. I’m single.”

And he leaves it at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay chapter 2! Not sure how I'm feeling about the pacing so far, things feel a little stagnant but I guess that's because I'm the one who's been writing/reading it for the last week or so... Unbeta'd so I bet there are a few mistakes here and there but what can you do :)


	3. i've gotta get up early tomorrow again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by: [6/10 by Dodie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rhb5wTCero)

Eric sits up in a panic, jamming his hands over his ears as an alarm blares, loud and piercing. It’s definitely morning; he can see sunlight creeping in between his curtains. His heart is pounding, his body briefly frozen after being wrenched from his sleep. He collects himself and swings his legs out of bed, grumbling about losing sleep and having to go outside and…

He perks up when a faint odor of smoke passes his nose. Eyes widened, he throws on a white t-shirt and a pair of flip flops and rips his phone away from the charger, running to his door. He peeks his head into the hallway, seeing smoke lazily oozing out of a door down the hall to his right. It’s not just a drill, or some idiot setting off the alarm accidentally. He mutters a swear under his breath and quickly runs down three flights of stairs, wondering why he doesn’t see anybody else. He runs outside, seeing that most of the residents have already evacuated, most of them looking disgruntled and drowsy. He can see the room that’s burning, smoke now billowing from the open window. There are sirens in the distance.

As if his heart hasn’t done enough gymnastics for the morning, it stops dead for a second when Caleb walks out the front door of his apartment building. He notices Eric immediately, blinking and rubbing his eyes, then frowning. He quickly approaches, his lips pursed.

“Really?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Eric shoots back.

“I don’t know, it’s just...weird. That’s all. This fire isn’t your fault is it?”

Eric scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone on my floor though. I’m on four.”

“Huh,” Caleb says, turning to look up at the smoke. The sirens are getting louder. “I’m on three. Weird that I’ve never seen you. Guess we would’ve realized last night if you hadn’t bailed so soon.”

Eric rolls his eyes, a conversation behind them catching his attention.

“I don’t know if I can ever speak to you again after this,” a woman says, shaking her head.

“If you want a divorce, the paperwork is all you,” the man with her replies.

Her head whips to him, rage in her eyes. “You just set our fucking apartment on fire. Save it.”

Despite the situation, Eric finds himself stifling laughter. He looks up at Caleb, who had also heard the conversation. He seems rather unimpressed.

“I’m on team angry wife. Not really finding anything about this funny,” he says, yawning.

“Have you ever had fun before?” Eric asks.

Caleb scoffs. “That’s really cute, coming from you. I’ve known you for like, two days, and all I really know is that you walk around like there’s a rolling pin up your ass.”

Eric pouts a little. “So fun is allowed, but only on your terms?”

Caleb looks at him, baffled. “Our apartment building is on fire. That’s  _ fun _ to you?”

“No, dummy. I just mean that every situation has a silver lining.”

His head turns as the woman starts screaming again.

“JUST BECAUSE OUR SMOKE DETECTOR IS BROKEN DOES NOT MEAN YOU SHOULD LIGHT A FIREWORK INSIDE, DANIEL!”

“It was a small one! I just wanted to see what would happen…”

Eric turns back around, again trying to contain his laughter. He catches Caleb’s eye and his mouth twitches upward into a smile. Eric loses it, breaking out into a fit of giggles. Luckily, everybody around them is either talking or also laughing at the fight, so the couple doesn’t notice. Caleb is laughing too, now, biting his lip and shaking his head. Eric takes a deep breath and wipes a tear out of his eye as the firetruck finally pulls up. It seems the fire hasn’t spread much, so Eric doesn’t feel worried. He’s too tired to feel anything else, anyway. He snaps a quick picture of the smoke coming out of the window and sends it to Lardo with the caption “mood.”

“So what exactly is the silver lining, then? Other than the pure entertainment factor?” Caleb asks, gesturing toward the couple.

Eric shrugs. “We know where to get some fireworks if we ever need them.”

Caleb laughs again as Eric’s mind jumps back to the summer, thinking about the fireworks they set off in the backyard on the Fourth of July. The beginning of Smashfest, the booziest week of his life. An image of a silhouette looking down from a window flashes briefly in his mind before he’s wrenched back into reality by the commotion of firefighters going about their work. One of them stands at the front of the crowd and speaks to the residents as they start to put out the fire.

“Did everybody make it out alright? Sounds like the alarm is still on so I doubt anybody’s asleep. The residents of the apartment that’s actually on fire, are they out here?”

Everybody turns to the couple as they both raise a hand, nodding.

“Alright, good. Nobody knows of anybody else who might be inside?”

There’s a quiet murmur through the crowd, but nothing to indicate anybody in danger.

“Thank you for cooperating! Hopefully this will be handled and we can get people back inside as soon as possible.” He gives a little wave of thanks and everybody goes back to their own conversations.

Eric glances down at his phone.  _ Shit _ . They’re supposed to be at the bakery in half an hour. He sighs and dials Maggie’s number, tapping his foot impatiently. She answers after a second.

“Everything okay?” she asks, sleep still in her voice.

“Um, so our apartment building sort of caught on fire.”

Her voice is suddenly louder. “It what?!”

“It caught on fire, but just a little bit!”

“Holy shit, are you alright? Wait, did you say  _ our _ ?”

“Oh, yeah, I did. Turns out Caleb lives a floor beneath me.”

Caleb’s head turns toward him at the sound of his name. Eric points at the phone and mouths  _ Maggie _ . Caleb nods, looking back at the building. The smoke has stopped at this point.

“Okay, so, are you saying you’re not coming in?”

“No, we’ll be there! We just might be late. Not sure how soon they’ll be able to let us back inside,” he says, sighing.

“Oh. Alright. I might be able to open up fine on my own. I don’t really know how to bake, though, so...maybe we should open late today?”

Eric chews his lip, wondering if throwing potential customers off on their third day would be smart. Either way, there wouldn’t be anything to sell if he didn’t make it in time.

“Yeah, I think that’s the best option. I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can, though!”

“Eric, take your time. Fires are scary. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He chuckles. “You sound like Holly. Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Just a little annoyed is all.”

He hears her exhale. “Just checking. Keep me updated!”

“Will do, thanks Maggie!” He hangs up and sees he has four texts from Laro.

**Lardo (ur gf): UM**

**Lardo (ur gf): IS THAT REAL**

**Lardo (ur gf): WHAT IS HAPPENING**

**Lardo (ur gf): IS YOUR APARTMENT ON FIRE ERIC PLEASE ANSWER ME**

Before he can answer, his phone is ringing.

“Hello?” he says, as casually as possible.

“Hi, so like, what the fuck?” Lardo asks.

He chuckles. “It was someone down the hall, don’t worry!”

She sighs, groaning. “How was I supposed to know that? You sent me a picture of a burning apartment and all you said was ‘mood.’”

“Do you really think I would be so relaxed if my own damn apartment were on fire? And  _ also _ , how do you reckon I would’ve caused a fire in the first place?”

There’s a pause. Then, “Oh! Your gay bath candles!”

Eric laughs. “Are all candles gay now?”

“Nope, just yours.”

Eric catches Caleb’s eyes. His eyebrow is raised, probably intrigued at hearing just Eric’s side of the conversation. He glances away. Eric doesn’t really care what he overhears.

“Okay, well now that you know I’m not baking at 350, I need to go. I think they’re letting us back in. Also, why are you awake so early?” Lardo had a tendency to work late into the night, so it was unlike her to be up, even despite the time difference.

“There’s, um, a possibility that I never went to sleep.”

“Art bug?”

“Art bug,” she confirms.

“Well, please try to at least take a break or something.”

“Do you think Michelangelo took breaks when he was painting all those dicks on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel?”

His heart hurts from missing her so much. “You know, I would assume he did, but I don’t know enough about Renaissance art to dispute it.”

“Don’t you fucking meme at me at this goddamn hour!”

“I feel like that one was deserved,” he replies, starting to shuffle inside with the rest of the crowd. The incriminating couple stays outside to talk to the firefighters.

“Fine, I’ll give it to you. Okay, bake something good for me today! Love you lots!”

“Love you, too, Lardo,” he says, smiling gently.

“ _ PEACE _ ,” she yells as she hangs up the phone. Eric notices that Caleb is still next to him as they climb the stairs.

“Same friend from yesterday?” he asks.

Eric nods. “Yeah, I sent her a picture of the fire and she had a small aneurysm. All good now, though.”

“So what’s the plan? I don’t know if we’re gonna make it there in time to open.”

Eric glances at his phone, not realizing how much time had passed.

“Yeah, we’re just gonna have to open a little late today, I guess. Hopefully not a big deal.”

They reach the third floor and Caleb stops. “Okay. Do you think, uh…”

Eric raises an eyebrow. It’s the first time he’s seen Caleb actually thinking about what he’s about to say.

“Should we walk over together?”

“Oh!” Eric says, a little surprised. He tries to fight the color that floods his cheeks. “Sure, that would be fine by me! We can meet downstairs in, like, 20 minutes?”

Caleb nods, smiling. “Cool.”

 

* * *

They’re quiet at first. Eric can’t quite tell if it’s a comfortable silence or not, because it seems like Caleb is always indifferent in the situations when Eric feels awkward. He’s glad when Caleb breaks the silence.

“So what’s on the menu for today?”

“Maybe some pie. Cookies. I might make a batch of muffins, it seems like people really like those for breakfast.”

Caleb hums, sticking his hands in his pockets. “You ever made bagels before?”

Eric frowns. “You know what, I actually haven’t!”

Another hum. “I can show you how. If you want.”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t have any baking experience?”

Caleb shrugs. “I guess I didn’t count that for some reason. I make a pretty mean bagel, though. And people would definitely buy them.”

“If you say so!” Eric agrees. It makes enough sense to him, plus learning something new is always a win in his book.

They finally arrive at the bakery and Caleb pulls the door open, gesturing Eric inside. He smiles and enters, greeting Maggie then heading directly into the kitchen.

“Looks like we’re not even an hour behind schedule,” he calls as he starts to pull out ingredients.

There’s no response, but he hears Caleb quietly recounting their morning to Maggie.

“—and there was a  _ crazy _ amount of smoke, I thought for sure the whole building would end up in ashes.”

Maggie gasps and Eric frowns. It sounds a little over the top, but maybe Caleb is just one of those people who likes to embellish a little.

“Apparently some idiot set off a whole bunch of fireworks in his apartment because he wanted to see what would happen.”

“Sounds like a complete idiot,” Maggie responds.

“His wife threatened to divorce him in front of everyone, it was crazy!”

_ That had just been a joke _ , he thinks, still not making much of it.  _ And wasn’t it just one firework? _ Maybe he had simply read the situation differently than Caleb.

“I’m just glad you’re both alright. So funny that you both live in the same building, though!”

Eric hears Caleb chuckle as he starts combining the dry ingredients for a batch of lemon poppyseed muffins, not really paying attention to what his hands are doing.

“Yeah, not really sure how to feel about that yet.”

He stops. “Y’all know I can hear you in here, right?” Caleb’s answer to that remark definitely rubs him the wrong way.

Caleb’s head suddenly peeks into the kitchen. “I didn’t mean anything by that,” he says, not looking sorry at all. “Just that it might be weird having my boss living above me. Plus, now I never really get away from you.” He winks.

“Get out of my kitchen,” Eric says, a slight air of playfulness in his voice. “Shouldn’t you be scrubbing a table or something?”

Caleb smirks and leaves the kitchen, returning to his conversation with Maggie. Eric decides it might be best just to leave them alone, so he puts in his earbuds and selects a playlist filled mostly with Beyoncé songs. Okay, maybe it’s  _ all _ Beyoncé songs.

——-

In no time, there are two batches of muffins cooling on the counter and cookies in the oven. Eric is cleaning up, not sure if he should risk making anything else yet, especially if they’re opening late. He wiggles his hips to Check On It and hums quietly as he wipes off his workspace, basking in the gentle scent of lemon hanging in the air.

He almost throws the towel in his hand when he’s suddenly tapped on the shoulder. He gasps and whips around, pulling out one of his earbuds. Caleb is standing behind him. He looks amused.

“Having fun?”

“What do you want?”

“Can you relax? Maggie has something for you,” he responds, rolling his eyes and turning to leave. “Cute dancing,” he adds as he exits the kitchen.

Eric takes a deep breath, throwing down the towel and following him. His mood shifts immediately when he sees a brand new coffee maker sitting on the front counter. He runs over, smiling.

“That nice woman the other day asked about it and I figured the sooner we start catering to what our customers want, the sooner we can build up a client base!”

Eric nods, circling the machine. It’s the kind that brews single cups of coffee and uses the little disposable cups. Eric sees that there are also a few boxes of those.

“I figure we can leave the machine out and just have people pay for the coffee pods. We’ll need some mugs or something as well. I just have paper cups with sleeves for now, so people can take it to go if they want!”

“Should we test it out?” Caleb suggests.

“It wouldn’t hurt! Eric?”

He smiles. “Yeah, of course!”

 

* * *

It’s a good thing Maggie had jumped on the opportunity, because Michelle returns that morning after walking her daughter to school. She buys a muffin and some coffee, this time opting to sit inside and relax for a bit. A fan swings lazily overhead, circulating the warm air in the room. The bakery is quiet and cozy, the late summer morning creeping slowly by and dragging into the early afternoon. A few more people stop by throughout the day, most of them coming in out of curiosity and staying because of the aroma. Around noon, Eric decides that it’s necessary to whip up another double batch of cookies. Maggie sits behind the register and Caleb brings food out to customers, clearing tables and keeping things clean.

Despite how relaxing the day is, Eric misses the pace at Holly’s. He misses his friends, and their house, and…

No. He’s not going there, he told himself he would try to avoid thinking about him at all, if that’s what it takes to get over him. That doesn’t stop his mind from going there in his dreams, a thousand pairs of blue eyes staring at him in his sleep. Jack’s presence still looms over him, even from across the damn country. Every could-have-been feels like another finger of a decrepit hand closing around Eric’s throat. Cold. Sharp. Constricting. Just the thought that Jack might be hurting, maybe even more… It’s almost too much to bear. Even worse is the possibility that he might  _ not _ be.

A hissing voice pulls him back to the real world. Caleb is half in the kitchen, looking slightly frantic.

Eric frowns, his heart rate increasing. “Is there something wrong?”

Caleb nods, then shakes his head. “No,” he says, whisper yelling. “But Emily freaking Carpenter is sitting in your bakery.”

Eric sighs, glad nothing bad has happened. He frowns; the name sounds familiar. “Who is that?” he asks.

Caleb shushes him, looking out into the seating area. “Keep your voice down! She has like six hundred  _ thousand _ Instagram followers, she’s just like, an influencer or whatever.”

His eyes widen a bit. “Oh,” he breathes, now also peeking out of the kitchen. “Did she buy anything?”

“No, not yet. She just sat down and started taking selfies.”

Eric laughs. “The lighting in here  _ is _ pretty nice.”

“Not the point! If she posts anything about this place, it’s an instant business boost!”

Eric narrows his eyes, trying to think of the best plan of attack. Luckily, there’s a batch of cookies about to come out of the oven.

“Alright, you take those cookies out of the oven for me. I’m gonna go up front with Maggie in case she wants to buy anything.”

“What do I do with them?”

Eric rolls his eyes. “Just put them on top of the oven. And don’t burn yourself.  _ And _ don’t drop them!”

“Alright, alright,” Caleb says as Eric removes his apron, stepping up to the front and quickly explaining the situation to Maggie. As he’s relaying the information, Emily approaches the counter.

“Hello there!” Eric says as cheerfully as he can.

“Hey,” she responds. She seems sweet. She takes a second to look around in the display case, gently tapping one nail on the counter.

“Do you have any gluten free options?” she finally asks.

_ Shit _ .

“I’m so sorry, we actually don’t have anything gluten free at the moment. We just opened a few days ago and we’re just getting into the swing of things.”

She smiles. “That’s okay! I’m not allergic, I’m just trying to cut it out of my diet when I can.”

He exhales. All is not lost.

“Do you just have the snickerdoodles today?” she asks, looking into the case again.

“Nope, there’s also a batch of chocolate chip that just came out of the oven!”

She nods, taking a second. “Could I get one of each?”

“Sure thing!” Eric says as Maggie rings her up. He takes out a plate, putting one snickerdoodle on it and running back into the kitchen.

“So?” Caleb asks anxiously, the tray of cookies sitting behind him.

“She bought two!” Eric says quickly, grabbing a cookie and swiftly returning to the front counter.

Emily smiles at him. “I was just saying to Maggie; it’s  _ so _ cute in here! So comfy and welcoming.”

“Well, we’re glad you think so! Any ideas for how we might improve?” he asks as he hands her the plate.

She looks around. “Maybe some plants? People are super into succulents right now and they’re pretty easy to manage. Might just bring in a some more color and tie everything together?”

Eric nods. She’s right, almost everything in the bakery is made of wood, so the look is very rustic. Some plant life might help to modernize.

“Thanks, we’ll look into that!”

She grabs a napkin and sits back down. Eric wants to watch as she eats, but realizes how creepy that would be and runs back into the kitchen.

Caleb is leaning against a counter, looking at his phone. “She hasn’t posted anything,” he comments without looking up. Eric laughs.

“Well she’s only been here a couple minutes.”

“Don’t underestimate her, she posts an  _ inhuman _ amount of pictures. I follow her religiously.”

Eric raises an eyebrow. Caleb doesn’t really seem like the type to get so invested in social media. “What’s so special about her anyway?”

Caleb sighs, putting his phone down. “Well, for me, I really like her taste in music. She always manages to find these unknown artists and send them a little bit of love from her fans. That’s sort of her thing. She loves exposing the mainstream public to more underground, legit content instead of the manufactured bullshit.”

Eric nods, a little impressed. THe obsession makes more sense now.

“Holy shit!” Caleb says, looking at his phone again. Eric squeezes in next to him, staring down at the screen.

Sure enough, there’s a picture from theemilycarpenter posted 23 seconds ago. The location is even tagged at the top of the post; Eric wasn’t even aware that Holly’s and Bits’ was in Instagram’s system. The picture is of the two cookies, one broken in half and laying on top of the other. It’s simple but elegant, and the old wooden table adds to the aesthetic. The caption reads:

_ Just stumbled across this adorable little bakery in SanFran! Best chocolate chip cookie I’ve had in my life. If you’re in the area you should check it out ❤ _

Eric grins, taking in a deep breath as Caleb double taps the photo.

“Do you think people will actually come?” he asks hopefully.

Caleb nods. “Hell yeah.”

 

And come they do. The rest of the week is an absolute whirlwind as business picks up exponentially. Eric spends most of his time at the ovens, churning out cookies and pies like he used to back in Boston. Caleb’s attitude shifts slightly; he seems less aloof and more into the job than Eric anticipated. In fact, Eric and Maggie agree that since social media was so helpful in bringing in more customers that the bakery should have an online presence. They give Caleb the responsibility of managing the accounts (with some supervision and input from Eric, of course).

As they’re closing that Saturday, all three of their moods are at a high. Eric is playing music through his speaker as they clean and make sure the store is ready to open again on Monday. Eric is grateful that he’ll have a day off to sit around and do nothing. The week has gone by at such a fast pace that he hasn’t had any time to relax. Getting up so early every day is already starting to drain him despite the fact that he goes to bed as early as his body allows him. Holly always did the earliest shifts so he’s not used to taking on that responsibility. As rewarding as it is, going home to an empty apartment with not much to do is surprisingly isolating. He chats with Lardo, of course, but it isn’t the same as sharing a bed and spilling all of their secrets as the summer night carries their cares off on a warm wind. He hasn’t talked to Shitty much, either, and has no idea what their other friends are up to. The loneliness is almost crushing, and by Friday night, the prospect of having to wake up early and go into work again feels so heavy.

Despite all of that, Saturday goes by in a flash and for now, he feels a lot better. He’s in and out of the kitchen, trying to decide what’s worth taking home and what just needs to be disposed of. Caleb is also back and forth, wiping things down and organizing clean dishes. At one point, he bumps his hip into Eric’s, knocking him slightly off balance. Eric can’t help the squeak that comes out of his mouth as he almost falls and Caleb grabs his arm to steady him.

“Sorry, you must be even lighter than you look,” he says as he continues walking. Eric feels his cheeks go a little hot but continues about his business, trying to ignore the smirk that Maggie shoots him as he takes the last dish out of the display case.

 

He locks the door behind them, looking up at the sign with his name on it and smiling.

“Well, we survived week one.”

“We sure did,” Maggie responds, placing a hand on his shoulder. “My prediction is that things will be more steady going forward but not quite as busy. The hype will have died down a bit by Monday.”

Caleb nods in agreement.

“Alright, you two have a nice weekend!” Maggie says, starting off in the other direction.

Caleb bumps into Eric again before beginning his own walk back to their building. It was especially noticeable today, but Eric feels like Caleb has a tendency to make contact at every given opportunity. He’s not really sure what to make of it.

“Bet I can beat you back,” Caleb teases, breaking off into a jog.

“Hey, no fair!” Eric calls after him. “Your legs are longer!” Regardless, he starts running himself, struggling to keep up. After a block or so, Caleb stops running and returns to a walking pace.

“I always forget how much I hate running until I attempt it.”

Eric knits his brows together, confused. Caleb appears to be in great shape; he assumed running might be a regular part of his life. Either way, he relates.

“Any plans tonight?” Caleb asks casually, slipping his hands into his pockets and turning to face Eric. He walks backward, almost reminiscent of…

“Oh yeah, I’ve got a date with Olivia Pope,” Eric jokes.

“You watch Scandal?” Caleb asks.

Eric nods. “I just started! Makes me wish I could also live on popcorn and red wine.”

Caleb laughs. “Who says you can’t?” He winks at Eric and turns back around, allowing Eric to catch up to him so they’re walking side by side. Eric laughs, too.

“Would you be interested in maybe coming out with us?” Caleb asks after a minute of silence.

“Who’s us?”

“You remember those guys who stopped by on Tuesday?”

Eric nods.  _ Oh, I remember _ , he thinks. He remembers being slightly intimidated at seeing them all come in together, and then even more so when the one hit on him. What was his name again?

“Anyway, Mark’s been asking about you.”

There it was.

“W-what do you mean?” Eric stutters.

Caleb gives him a weird look. “He just wanted to know more about you. Whether or not you’re single, what you’re like…”

“Why?” Eric asks stupidly. He realizes how dumb he sounds, but Mark was  _ hot _ . He did flirt with him in person, though, so maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked.

“I guess he’s interested,” Caleb responds. There’s something weird about his tone. Hesitant. “Why do you seem so confused?”

Eric shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“How long have you been out, Eric?” Caleb asks.

He shrugs again. There isn’t really a definite answer to that.

“Because you seem pretty secure in your sexuality. To me, at least. I don’t know you that well yet, but that’s just the vibe I get.”

And he’s right. It isn’t an issue of sexuality at all. Eric has know that he’s gay for as long as he can remember, and spending a summer in such a gay-friendly household really cemented his security in that part of himself.

“It’s not that, I’m just… Not used to it, I guess. It’s still new and weird to me.”

Caleb frowns. “When did you move away from the South?”

“For college. But I wasn’t really social in school. I mostly stuck to myself.”

“Huh. So basically, you’ve only been living in the real world for like, a year.”

Another shrug. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

Eric almost trips. He starts to sweat. “I didn’t say that…”

“God, talking to you about boys is like trying to blow a brick wall! Why are you so closed off?”

He feels himself getting mad. “It’s not really your business,” he responds, trying to keep his voice even. “I just...had a weird summer, okay? Anyway, I think I’d like to just stay in tonight.”

Luckily, Caleb stops pushing and they finish the walk in silence. When they reach the third floor, they exchange an awkward goodbye and Eric starts to climb the last flight up.

“Hey, Eric?” Caleb calls from the bottom of the stairs. Eric turns around, one hand on the railing. “It’s his loss, you know.”

Eric frowns. “What?”

Caleb looks around quickly, licking his lips. Eric is shocked to see that he’s blushing. “Whoever he was, it’s his loss. Any guy would be lucky to be with you.”

Eric’s breath catches in his throat. He manages to choke out, “Oh, um, thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Caleb says, smiling gently. “See you Monday.”

“Yeah,” Eric breathes. “See you then.”

 

He flops down on his bed, his head pounding.  _ What the fuck just happened? _ He immediately pulls out his phone, typing furiously.

**hey, can I call you? just need to ask some advice on something**

He places his phone on his chest, waiting for Lardo’s response. It rises and falls with his chest as he breathes, Caleb’s words running on repeat through his head. He inhales sharply as his phone starts to vibrate against his torso and he picks it up, pressing it to his ear eagerly.

“Hey, Bits! What’s going on?”

“I’m...not really sure,” he responds, trying to figure out where to start.

“Um. Okay. Didn’t you say you needed advice on something?”

“I mean, yeah, yes, I do.”

“Just spit it out Bits! It’s me, remember? Your good pal, Lardo? The one you tell literally everything?”

He laughs. “I know, I’m sorry. Okay. So. It’s sort of a boy thing.”

There’s a silence on the other end. Then, “Oh! Yeah, cool, what’s up?” Her voice is slightly stilted. He can tell she’s forcing herself to sound nonchalant.

“So that guy who works at the bakery invited some of his friends to check it out the other day, and one of them sort of hit on me.”

Another moment of silence. “Is there a question in there somewhere?”

“No, sorry, there’s more. _ Then _ , just now, Caleb—that’s his name, by the way—asked me if I wanted to come out with them tonight, and said that the same friend’s been asking about me. But he seemed weird about it, almost like he didn’t wanna tell me. And  _ also _ , he keeps, like, bumping into me and making little comments and stuff. And he also told me that any guy would be lucky to have me.”

This time a few seconds go by. Finally, Lardo replies. “It sort of sounds like he’s into you, Bits.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Phew, thank you! I thought so too, but I wasn’t sure if I was going crazy and just making stuff up or what.”

“Are you… Do you like him too?”

Eric pauses. He hadn’t even thought about that part. “Oh. Uh. I’m not sure. Honestly, I’m just shocked that he might like me. And his friend too. Lardo, his friend was  _ seriously _ hot, I just don’t get it.”

“Eric Bittle, we’ve done this before,” she says, a little annoyance in her voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, I know you. I see that you’re probably not just fishing for compliments here or whatever. But Bits, you’re seriously hot. Like,  _ really _ hot. Especially by gay standards. You’re cute and compact, you’re blonde, you have those big brown eyes. And the Southern accent? It’s an absolute panty dropper. I know that your big issue this summer was about feeling inferior to, um,” she pauses. “To Jack. I know you got some validation from him being attracted to you, but you have to start realizing it for yourself, too!”

That last bit stings more than he wants to admit. However, there’s a comfort in knowing that Lardo isn’t just complimenting him to make him feel better. She doesn’t bullshit, so he trusts that what she says must be true.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks,” he mutters, feeling conflicted.

“So are you going out with them?”

“No, I told him I would rather be alone tonight. Which is such bullshit, because I’ve been alone since I moved out here and some company would actually be perfect. I guess I sort of panicked when I realized that something else might be happening.”

She hums, clicking her tongue. She makes that noise when she thinks, sometimes. “So what now?”

“I don’t really know. I still don’t know how to feel about him, and things only really just ended with Jack…” he says, trailing off. He runs a hand through his hair as he starts to cry. “I don’t know if I’m ready to even  _ think _ about anybody else yet.”

She sighs. “I know, kiddo. I wish I had some more solid advice for you on this one, but it’s really up to you. Odds are, it’s gonna be a while before you’re over him. In fact, it might never fully happen. I could be wrong, but you and Jack were  _ so _ real, and it’s hard to move past something like that. Honestly, I feel like it might be best just to be on your own for a little while.”

Eric wipes away a tear. “I think I agree with that,” he responds. “What if I’m never ready, though?”

“You will be. It might take a while, but you’ll get there.”

There’s a part of him that wonders how true that is. In the back of his mind, he still wonders if things with him and Jack could work out somehow. Eventually. He remembers his last conversation with Jack, remembers the words he said. They felt so real at the time, but now they feel more like a far off dream, misty and warm.

_ “I’ve never been so sure of something in my damn life, Jack Zimmermann. This isn’t the end for us.” _

_ “You can’t promise that.” _

_ “Well, I am.” _

He can’t remember another time he spoke so surely. The last time words came directly from the beating muscle in his chest instead of his brain. Only a few weeks have passed but it feels so far off, like a different timeline. He can feel himself getting more upset, except anger is leading his pack of emotions this time. He’s angry that they had been so stupid and naive, and angry that they didn’t have more time, and still so broken up about seeing Jack sob as he packed to go live his dream. Why couldn’t they have at least tried?

“You alright, Eric?”

He inhales a shaky breath, annoyed at himself for crying again. “Not really. But I think I will be soon. I hope.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too. Hang in there, okay bud? I’m always here to listen and talk, you know that.”

“Thanks Lardo. I love you.”

“I love you, Eric. Keep kickin’ ass for me.”

He laughs, a tear falling into his open mouth. “I’ll do my best.”

“Sounds good. I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but try to get some sleep, okay? I feel like you could use it.”

“Damn right,” he says, yawning as if on cue.

“Alright, I’ll let you go now. Talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you.”

“Sweet, talk to you then!”

He hangs up the phone, feeling even  _ more  _ conflicted. He dials a familiar number, pulling his knees up to his chest as it rings. Finally, an answer.

“Hello? Dicky?”

“Hi, Mama,” he says, suddenly crying again.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” she says, her voice riddled with concern.

“It’s nothing, I promise. It’s just real lonely out here, that’s all.” His heart already feels lighter upon hearing her voice.

“I know sweetheart, I know. Are things at the bakery at least going well?”

“Actually, yeah! This girl who has a lot of followers on social media posted some nice things about us, so we’ve had a lot of new customers this week.”

“Well that’s just great!”

“Yeah, we’re real grateful for it.”

“Honey, you sound exhausted. Have you not been sleeping well?”

He sighs. “Not really. My dreams have been real intense, and getting up so early is definitely doing a number on me,” he says, chuckling slightly.

“Please promise me that you’re taking good care of yourself, Dicky. You know how much I worry.”

“I know, Mama. I know. Once I settle in more, I’m sure it’ll get easier.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she says.

“Hey, Mama? Do you remember that lullaby you used to sing for me?”

There’s a pause. “I sure do,” she says, her voice suddenly low. He can tell she’s started crying.

“Would you...Could you sing it?” he asks, resting his chin on his knees.

“Of course I can, honey,” she says heavily.

“Thank you,” he says, barely a whisper.

He lays down as she starts to sing, her voice just as beautiful as he remembered. The song brings him back home to Georgia, back to a time when things felt so twisted and complicated. What he wouldn’t give now to go back and have things be like that again.

Before he even realizes, he’s sound asleep, his mother still on the other end of the phone.

“Goodnight, Eric. Mama loves you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sorry for the huge gap between chapter updates. It seems like that's just a common theme with me but now that I'm getting back into this fic I'm hoping I can take a huge chunk out of it this summer! Thank you to everybody who's stuck around despite me being a big ol gay mess :,) <3


	4. tell me it's just for the fun of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by: [The One by Carly Rae Jepsen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niD7kxE0y28)

He wakes with a start, his mother’s voice still gently ringing in his ears. His phone is still in his hand, nearly dead. The time reads 11 AM. He has a message from his mother, which he opens immediately. It’s an audio file, and a text.

**Mama: now you have it whenever and wherever you need it, just in case Mama isn’t around to sing it. I love you. <3**

Sure enough, the audio file is of his mother singing the same lullaby from the night before. He finds himself tearing up again, if anything, because he’s so proud that she figured out how to record and send it.

He sits up in bed, plugging his phone in next to him so it doesn’t die. He stretches his arms and legs out, limbs briefly shaking violently in a way that shouldn’t feel good but somehow does. He exhales and gets out of bed, going into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The events of the previous night still tug at his brain, though not as forcefully as the previous night. Lardo’s words stick with him specifically: 

_ “But Bits, you’re seriously hot. Like, really hot. Especially by gay standards. You’re cute and compact, you’re blonde, you have those big brown eyes. And the Southern accent? It’s an absolute panty dropper.” _

He stares at himself in the mirror, wishing he saw himself that way. He’d always felt too small, too scrawny. He doesn’t mind his hair or his eyes, actually. If he’s honest with himself, he’s never really felt straight up  _ ugly _ . But he’s never felt hot either. Not even cute, really. He can’t remember ever being the target of attention or flirtation from anybody, so he’d just never really thought of himself that way. He can see what Lardo meant, though, he at least understands. It’s just a matter of believing it for himself.

He sighs and rests his hand on his chin, still staring at himself in the mirror. He frowns and takes his shirt off, looking at his body and frowning again. Though not as intensely thin as he had been in college (food costs money), he’s still rather on the skinny side. Unusual for a baker, he’s been told. He does a full circle, craning his neck to really look at himself.  _ Could I really be desirable to people? Is it possible that people really find me hot? _

He thinks back to the comment made by Caleb’s friend, stopping mid spin to change his gaze. Maybe it’s just the way his underwear is hugging him, but his butt does look pretty good. He smiles, shaking his head and laughing at himself. Suddenly feeling narcissistic, he washes his face and pulls his shirt back over his head, sighing.

He has no plans for the day. Not a single one. He picks up his phone again, seeing a few Twitter notifications but not much else. He realizes with a slight jolt that he hasn’t updated the people who follow his vlog since before the bakery opened and chastises himself. He quickly throws on some more presentable clothes and opens his laptop, clearing his throat.

“Hey, y’all! Eric here with an update from the West Coast! So, the bakery has been open for a week now, and things are already going pretty well. This nice girl who’s big on social media gave us a shout out, so our business spiked a bit from that. Her name’s Emily Carpenter, you should go check her out and tell her Eric says thanks!” He laughs, licking his lips. Why does he feel so nervous? He’d recorded like this in front of his laptop hundreds of times, and he’s shared a lot more personal information than this. In fact, that’s one of the main reasons that he and Jack…

Oh. Right. Jack knows about the vlogs. At any moment, he could catch up on everything in Eric’s life—everything that he’s willing to share anyway—and for some reason that’s terrifying. It also feels...unfair. Not that Eric  _ wants _ to have all the details of Jack’s life at the moment, but even if he did all he would really have is what’s covered on sports blogs and channels. And whatever Lardo is willing to tell him. Which, as he learned, isn’t much. Just the fact that Jack could so easily check on him in a much more personal way makes him feel uneasy.

“Anyway, I don’t have a whole lot to say,” he says honestly, realizing that nothing exciting has really happened. Except maybe his conversation with Caleb, but his mind goes again to Jack. Just trying to keep up with Eric’s life and hearing him talk about another guy not even a month out. His mouth is dry. Censored by the idea of Jack’s attention. “There was a fire in my building a couple days ago, but nothing serious. Although it does still smell like smoke a little. But you get used to that,” he says, chuckling at the memory of the couple fighting about the firework. “It’s been real lonely here, I can’t lie. I miss home, and I miss my friends and the old bakery almost every second. But I have a real good feeling about this one, so I think I just need to tough it out. I wish I had some friends or something so I wasn’t alone with my thoughts all the damn time.” He scratches the back of his neck. Last night would’ve been an opportunity for that, but…

“I think that’s about it from me right now! I have off today because the bakery’s closed. Might try out some new recipes, although the oven in my apartment is not to be trusted, I’ve learned.”

He shudders when he remembers the asparagus he had tried to bake for himself and how black and shriveled up they’d gotten. The temperature setting didn’t seem to be, what one would call, accurate.

“Hope y’all are having wonderful days, and I’ll talk to y’all soon! I promise I’ll try to update more frequently going forward, especially since I don’t have much to do... _ Anyway _ , see you next time!”

He exhales heavily as he stops the recording, pushing his hair off his face. It’s gotten a little long for his liking, but the idea of finding a barbershop makes him a little nervous. In fact, he’s been a little on edge since he sat down on his bed to record the vlog, his fingers trembling and his heart a little fast. He decides it’s because he hasn’t eaten since lunch the previous day and pours himself a bowl of cereal, sitting back down in bed with it so he can look out the window. There’s a gentle breeze coming through, sounds of life muted by the static in his mind.

So much of what he would’ve liked to unload in his vlog suddenly became off-limits when he thought about Jack. He feels silly now; what are the odds that Jack even has time to watch them? Or cares enough? He munches on his cereal angrily, his brow furrowed.  _ Why does it even matter anyway? Why should I care what he thinks anymore, right? _

His body has calmed down but by the time he’s draining the bowl of the milk that’s leftover, he’s worked himself into an irrationally angry mood. He washes the bowl, scrubbing harder than one needs to after just having cereal in it, then returns to his bed and flops onto it face down. He huffs into a pillow. Even knowing that it’s going to take a long time to get over Jack, he feels frustrated that his looming feelings are dictating little aspects of his life. However, something about being angry feels almost...fulfilling. The previous sadness was so pointless and lonely, but at least this anger has a direct target. He thinks about the days leading up to his departure. Jack had avoided him completely, and in fact if Eric hadn’t been so forceful with his goodbye, things might be even worse off.

How immature of him. Eric had been hurting just as much as him, if not more, and Jack couldn’t even bring himself to talk to him. He flips over, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. They had spent the whole summer hiding their feelings from each other only to finally open up and let each other in. Suddenly that was all gone. Eric huffs, shaking his head. He should stop. His mood is deteriorating more and more every second, and the last thing he wants right now is to spend a day alone and thinking about how mad he is at his ex.  _ Why couldn’t we have just tried to make it work? _ he can’t help but think. In fact, it’s a question that’s nagged him since he got in the airport-bound car. Something about it felt...unreal. Everything stopped as suddenly as it had started, like wind knocked out of his lungs, and until now he hasn’t really thought about the emotional whiplash.

He jumps and swears when his phone buzzes on the nightstand next to him. He sits up, thankful to be distracted if just for a second. It’s a text message.

**Mr. Shitty: hiya Bits! you free right now?**

He smiles. He actually hasn’t talked to Shitty since he left. They’ve both been so busy. He also has to assume that Shitty has sort of been for Jack what Lardo’s been for Eric.

**Absolutely!**

**Mr. Shitty: fuck yes, I’m calling you!!**

He doesn’t even let the phone ring once before picking it up, a smile already creeping onto his face.

“Hey, Shits,” he says.

“Eric goddamn Bittle!” is his response.

Eric giggles, sitting up and pulling a knee to his chest, his other leg dangling over the side of the bed.

“How’s doing law school stuff?”

Shitty sighs. “I mean, I love it, you know?”

Eric pauses, sensing a lie.

“And by that, I mean it really fucking sucks.”

They both laugh.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think this was totally the right choice. It’s just  _ so _ much work, Bits. I have  _ two _ designated seats in the library. I spend more time there than at my own damn home. Poor Lardo is here alone half the time because I’m always up to my ass in learning about cases and memorizing legal terms. I mean,  _ fuck _ , whose goddamn idea was it for all of this shit to be in fucking  _ Latin _ ? It’s BULLSHIT I tell you!”

Eric can’t help but laugh again, his eyes tearing up from the effort of trying not to. “Sounds like a pretty rough time. Have you made any friends?”

Shitty hums, thinking about it. “Oh! Yes! There’s a guy who sits next to me a lot. We’ve never spoken, but there’s some kind of silent bond created exclusively by intense stress. I just feel like he gets me, you know?” He pauses. “I...I don’t know his name, now that I think about it.”

“So he probably won’t be coming to your wedding, then?”

“Eh, it’s fifty fifty.”

Eric shakes his head, realizing just how much he had missed this. “But you’re okay, right? Like, you really think this was the right choice?”

“Oh, Bits, abso-frickin- _ fuckin _ -lutely! The more I learn, the more I’m thinking about specializing in abuse cases. Abuse victims get fucked over so often in court, and I just really want to try to stop that from happening. You know, shift the culture away from victim blaming, but also try to find a way to work with the bullshit hellscape of a legal system that’s currently operating.”

“Wow. That’s pretty intense.”

A pause. “Yeah, I guess so. But, I mean,  _ someone’s _ gotta do it. And after learning some more about Jack and Kent…” He cuts off immediately.

Eric’s breath catches. After experiencing it firsthand from Kent, he has to agree with Shitty. “Have you talked to him? To Jack?” he asks, holding his breath in anticipation.

“Um,” Shitty replies. Eric realizes that he might feel guilty; this is the first time they’ve spoken since, even though Shitty was really the one who was basically Eric’s therapist throughout the summer.

“Shitty, it’s okay,” Eric says, his voice gentle. He mostly means it.

“Yes,” he admits, exhaling sharply. “We talk almost every day. Not for long, and usually not even about, um, that kind of stuff,” he finishes vaguely.

Eric bites his lip, remembering that moments ago he had been so mad at Jack, not caring at all what he thought and wanting to be free of him. He almost slaps himself as he asks anyway, “Is he doing alright?”

The pause that follows is thick, heavy. Tangible.

“Eric, I…” He sighs. “Yes, he’s doing fine. I don’t really know how much I should really share with you.”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Eric says quickly, picking at the edge of his shirt. “You don’t have to go into any specifics. I just wanted to see—“

“He asked about you,” Shitty says, so quietly Eric almost misses it.

“Oh,” he breathes, swallowing. “Oh,” he repeats. “What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t say anything, really. You and I haven’t talked since you left, so I just told him I wasn’t sure.”

Eric feels a pang of guilt. “Shitty, I’m sorry, I should’ve reached out sooner, I—“

“Oh fuck, Bits, no, I wasn’t trying to, like,  _ ugh _ ,” he says, sighing. “The last thing I wanna do right now is guilt trip you. Like I said, I’ve been super busy, too.”

_ Not too busy to talk to Jack everyday. _

“I’m just glad we’re doing this now. I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Lardo’s gonna kill me,” he mutters.

Eric feels conflicted about how involved his friends are in this situation. On the one hand, it shows how much they care. However, so far it seems like it’s only caused Eric more frustration. While he respects that they’re trying to keep private what should be, he wishes he could just get  _ something _ to ease his mind.

“Well, I should probably go now,” Shitty says awkwardly. “Lardo wants to go out for brunch because I decided to take the day off from being Elle Woods,” he says, his tone a little lighter.

“Oh, yeah, how are you two doing?” Eric asks. The two of them together keeps going over his head, probably because it’s sort of felt like they were a couple from the start.

“Great! Like I said, I feel bad that I’m basically cheating on her with a stack of textbooks, but it seems she’s okay with an open relationship for now.”

Eric chuckles. “Quite a metaphor there, Shits.”

“Ugh, I know, my mind,” he responds. “I’m sorry I haven’t asked about the bakery. Lardo’s been keeping me pretty up to date with that,” he admits.

“Oh, yeah, no problem!” Eric says. This is the first conversation he’s had with Shitty that includes mutual awkwardness. “Not a whole lot to talk about there, anyway.”

“Pfft, I highly doubt that,” Shitty says. Eric hears a faint voice call something in the background. “ _ Why would I wear the pants with the stain? I have other pants, dumbass, _ ” he yells back. There’s a sigh. “I know I’m a bit of a mess, but I also happen to be a grown ass man, you know?” he says, talking to Eric again.

Eric hums, his mind suddenly wandering.

“Hey, Bits? I’m sorry,” Shitty says, his voice low again.

Eric frowns. “What for?”

“I don’t know, I’m just...sorry…”

Eric sighs. “Shitty, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I guess…”

“I’m gonna let you go now, okay? Love you,” Eric says.

He can almost hear the smile on Shitty’s face. “Love you, too, Bits. I promise I’ll try not to be such a stranger from now on.”

“Sounds good to me. Talk to you soon,” Eric says as he hangs up the phone. He collapses down onto his back, his arms flailing to the sides as he lets out a frustrated grunt. 

_ He asked about me _ .

That sits on his chest, dense and cold. Not sure what to make of it, he decides to quickly edit and upload the vlog. Suddenly glad that he had contained most of his emotions. If Jack was asking about him, that must mean…

 

Once the vlog is posted, he spends almost the entire day lying in bed, looking at his phone. He doesn’t have the energy in him to get up and do anything productive. He ends up taking a nap in the afternoon, only to wake up and stay in bed. The only thing that gets him up is the aggressive grumbling of his stomach. He eats some carrot sticks and drinks a cup of water and then gets back into bed, sighing as he notices that the sun is setting already. Still feeling tired despite the nap, he gets ready for bed, preparing himself mentally for another week to start.

 

Things at the bakery are a blur that week. Business has died down slightly, as Maggie predicted, but it’s still enough that Eric spends a lot of his time in the kitchen. The downside to this is that he has a lot of time to himself, which means he does a lot of thinking. He unintentionally gravitates toward his more somber playlists when he plays music. If he does at all. Sometimes the chatter of customers is too much stimulation as is, so he skips the music. 

The upside of being trapped in the kitchen is he’s not sure if he’s ready to spend more time with Caleb after their conversation on Saturday. Every time he looks at him his whole body short circuits for a second, confusion curdling his blood. He starts to notice things about Caleb that he hadn’t initially: just how deep blue his eyes are, the fact that his nose is just a little bit crooked, his thin but strong frame, the way his lips stand out so pink against the dark scruff around his mouth… So, maybe Eric likes to look at him when he isn’t paying attention. Maybe a pie almost burns because Eric is peering out of the kitchen, watching Caleb and Maggie talk during a slow pocket. Caleb’s become so comfortable in the bakery and it’s changed him completely. 

Eric isn’t even sure that Caleb realizes that he’s more or less avoiding him until Wednesday, when he comes back into the kitchen after the breakfast rush. Eric is just putting finishing touches on his mini pies, the ones that did so well back home. It’s his first time making them in the new bakery, so his spirits are...not  _ quite _ as low as they’d been. Regardless, his playlist titled “:(“ is playing gently in the background.

“Hey,” Caleb says. In the past few days, they’ve hardly spoken to each other. Even despite that, Caleb’s voice is casual and gentle. “Are you, like, okay?” he asks. Eric is almost surprised at the genuine concern he hears.

“I’m fine!” Eric says, sort of lying. At the moment he feels pretty neutral about everything.

“I just noticed that your music choice has been depressing as shit this week, and last week you were twerking to Beyoncé.”

Eric shrugs, his back to Caleb as he slides the pies into the oven. “Am I not allowed to have a more varied taste in music?”

Caleb scoffs. “No, that’s not what I meant. In fact, I respect the dedication to whatever mood you’re feeling. I just wanted to make sure something didn’t happen to you, or whatever…”

Eric shrugs again as he turns around, trying to ignore the way Caleb’s dark hair is falling around his face so effortlessly. This sudden attraction is really throwing him off guard.

Caleb sighs, taking a step forward. “Did I overstep the other night?” he asks, his tone a little more solid.

Eric blinks, not immediately reacting. “What do you mean?” he asks, knowing damn well what Caleb meant. He turns away from him again and starts cleaning up, afraid that the rose in his cheeks might give him away.

“I don’t know, I sort of just… I don’t know,” Caleb says, embarrassed. “I feel like I intruded, or something. I don’t really know you all that well and I started asking you all that personal stuff, and—“

“Caleb,” Eric says, turning around. “It’s  _ fine _ ,” he insists. “I just have some...stuff going on back home and it’s been distracting me. My impression is that you were trying to help,” Eric says cautiously, still facing away from Caleb, hands busy.

“I mean, yeah. Look, I know I can be a little abrasive sometimes. My mom’s really free-spirited and shit so I never really learned how to respect boundaries.”

It certainly explains how Caleb seems so comfortable all the time.

“Can you please just accept the apology? I feel like your first impression of me wasn’t really accurate and now I’m worried you think I’m this stuck-up hipster musician or something.”

Eric laughs, shaking his head as he puts away a clean bowl. “I mean I’m not good at lying, so I reckon you could tell I didn’t like you much at first.”

“And now?”

“I’m still deciding,” Eric says thoughtfully, earning him a playful huff from Caleb.

“I guess I’ll just have to prove myself, then!”

Eric finally turns to him, smiling just slightly. “How about you focus on proving that you can do your job, first?”

Caleb laughs in mock offense, grabbing a nearby towel and throwing it at Eric’s head. “I think I’m doing just fine so far, thank you!”

Eric laughs as he removes the towel. “Yeah, you are,” he says.

The sound of the door opening and a lively conversation cut through the silence that’s fallen between them.

“Well, Mister Good-At-Your-Job, sounds like we have some customers.”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I wouldn’t be nearly as nice to you,” he responds as he leaves the kitchen.

Eric leans against a counter, just now realizing that he’s sweating. Caleb had definitely been flirting with him, but...he flirted  _ back? _ He has no idea why he had done it. Maybe it was the knowledge that the iconic mini pies were making a return putting him in a good mood, or just the way the light caught in Caleb’s eyes when he smiled. And he had called Eric cute again, too…

He shakes his head, thinking about his conversation with Lardo. The poorly masked worry in her voice when she asked if he liked Caleb back makes him nervous. Because what if he does? How soon is too soon? Thinking about Jack still feels like jamming an icepick into his heart, but something about the way Caleb casually comments on Eric’s appearance or the sound of his laugh are almost like a small tugs outward. It’s still there, of course, pressing hard against bloody pump, but the pressure is slightly relieved. It gives Eric hope that someday, someone will be able to pull it back out again.

 

Eric’s mood at the bakery improves throughout the week, though going home alone is still lonely. Not as overwhelmingly so. But still lonely. He calls Lardo every day, chatting away while she works on whatever she needs to. He feels bad that he’s such a distraction but she claims that her art turns out better when her mind is busy, anyway. He also talks to Shitty almost every day, mostly over text. He gets more in-depth updates about law school and just how busy Shitty is, and he feels extremely proud of his friend for pursuing something so laborious and intense. He’d never really known Shitty to be a hard worker, so seeing this side of him is impressive.

Caleb flirtation becomes more obvious. A brush of a hand. A particularly meaningful glance. The way he shows off a little bit when he knows Eric is watching, often carrying more plates then he should or wiping down tables with record speed. As they close up on Saturday, things come to a head when Eric tries to leave the kitchen while Caleb is entering, neither of them looking where they’re going. Eric almost falls over, crying out as he loses his balance, but Caleb quickly wraps his arms around him and pulls him back up. For a split second he looks up into Caleb’s eyes, breathless, then pushes away and mumbles a “thank you” as his cheeks start to burn.

So he’s definitely not ready for a relationship, or even to go on a  _ date _ with anyone, he decides. That feels like a betrayal of his summer love. But as the leaves start to brown and fall, it more legitimately starts to feel like a new chapter is blowing in on the autumn breeze. Does he still cry almost every night? Perhaps. Does he think about what might happen if he gave in and let his walls down to Caleb? ...Maybe. At the end of the day, he realizes that his main problem is feeling wanted. Suddenly, he has that again, and it feels so fresh and different, like the colorful patterns of the trees he sees on his walks to the bakery—some of which include Caleb. This kind of flirtatious limbo is almost too perfect; both of them aware of the other’s attraction, but neither doing anything about it. As long as Caleb doesn’t actually have, like,  _ real feelings _ , then he’s not leading him on. Right?

As September starts to wrap itself up, carefully storing away its warmer weather for another time, Eric starts to think more and more about his coworker. Well, his employee, really. He’s not sure how to maneuver that dynamic. Especially because Maggie isn’t an idiot, and actually pulls him aside one morning before Caleb gets there to talk about it.

“I just worry about what might happen if things  _ do _ happen,” she admits, tapping her foot. “I don’t know how smart it would be to date your only real employee. Or, you know, do  _ whatever _ . With your  _ only employee _ ,” she repeats.

Eric shrugs. “We could always hire someone else. An extra hand wouldn’t hurt.”

He’s right, too. On their third week of business the stream of customers around breakfast and after lunch seems a lot more consistent, and Maggie actually had to go buy two more tables to squeeze into the bakery to house all of their hungry guests. Earlier that morning, a man from the coffee shop down the street had actually come to try to negotiate some kind of deal that involved them not selling coffee anymore because they’d lost so much business.

“Sir, it’s just a Keurig. Our coffee isn’t even that good.”

“That’s the damn  _ problem _ ,” he’d said, almost yelling. “Your coffee is just shitty coffee that anybody could make at home, but people are choosing to come to you instead because of your damn muffins!”

Eric and Maggie had exchanged a look, trying not to laugh.

“All I’m saying is, now that people know how good your muffins are, you should get rid of the coffee machine and direct them to us instead.”

“And what do we get out of that?”

“I’ll leave you alone.”

Eric had basically given him a very polite no and then showed him the door. People preferred to get everything in one place, there was nothing lucrative about trying to help that poor coffee man.

Maggie sighs. “All I’m saying is that  _ especially _ when you’re here, it’s sort of unprofessional to be all touchy and flirty, you know?”

Eric looks down at the ground, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I mean it is  _ your _ bakery.” That still hasn’t gotten old. “I just mean that it might make people uncomfortable.”

Eric frowns. “Why? Because we’re both—“

“That’s not at  _ all _ what I meant. Please,” she says, rolling her eyes. “If I were homophobic, do you think I would’ve even hired Caleb? Or agreed to co-run this place with you?”

He looks down again. “I guess not.”

She smiles, ruffling his hair. “Exactly. Now get back in the kitchen, I have a feeling it’s gonna be a busy day.”

 

It isn’t until the last day of September that Eric starts to have misgivings about the nature of his relationship with Caleb. After his conversation with Maggie he tries to pull back as much as he can while they’re actually at the bakery, which he can tell leaves Caleb a little confused. Hurt, even. They’re walking home together on Saturday night, both quiet. It had been a busy day. Eric dropped a bag of flour right before the morning rush and Caleb insisted that he clean it up so Eric could get to baking. Luckily things ended up working out, but it was still embarrassing.

“Do you wanna go out tonight?” Caleb asks suddenly.

Eric almost falls flat on his face.  _ Shit _ . “Um, what do you mean?”

“Remember a couple weeks ago when I invited you to come out with my friends and me?”

Eric nods, swallowing hard. Was Caleb really…

“Well, they’re all busy tonight, and I was just wondering if your mind has changed since then. Considering, um…”

“Considering what?” Eric asks, forcing his voice to stay even.

“Just that we know each other a little bit better now!”

Not quite true. Eric still doesn’t actually know much about Caleb, except that he always smells nice and has strong hands, fingers calloused from playing so much guitar.

“Oh, yeah, true,” Eric says. He pulls his sleeves down over his hands, shivering a little bit as the sun starts to go down. It’s a windy day and the clouds have been blocking the sun all the day, bathing the streets in a chilly blue glow.

Caleb doesn’t say anything else, but Eric looks over and catches his eye, smiling awkwardly. “It would just be the two of us?”

He nods. “I mean, like, it doesn’t have to  _ mean _ anything I guess, I could ask them again if anybody’s free, but—“

“No, that’s okay!” Eric says, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop himself. Even despite the knowledge that it might mean something to Caleb while it doesn’t so much for him. “I’m in.”

Caleb smiles, looking a little surprised. “Oh. Cool. I’ll, uh, text you a little later I guess?”

“Sure! I’ll have to give you my number first,” he says, laughing.

Caleb blushes. “Right, of course. Forgot I didn’t have it already.”

Eric holds out his hand, which Caleb practically flings his phone into. He wishes his fingers didn’t shake so much as he quickly types in his number and saves it under “Eric :)” before handing it back to Caleb.

“So, yeah, text me later,” Eric says as they reach their building.

“Cool,” Caleb responds, trying to force aloofness again. There’s something so endearing about wanting to keep his indifferent image alive.

“Cool,” Eric repeats. They’ve reached the third floor. “See you in a bit,” he says, quickly turning on his heel and taking the stairs two at a time. He’s reminded of their first real conversation, half expecting Caleb to call up the stairs after him again. No voice comes.

 

Half of his closet is on the floor of his apartment, clothes strewn like a pile of dropped napkins. Eric feels borderline frantic as he tries things on and throws them off his body, almost nothing striking him as good enough for going out. Going into the city. And not just any city,  _ San Francisco _ , one of the gayest cities in the fucking world. It’s not like he’s trying to attract lots of attention to himself, but he would like to broadcast the message that he is, in fact, a gay man.

He settles for a light pink shirt—short enough that it comes up past his belly when he raises his arms—and a pair of tight, dark jeans. It’s simple, but cute. He frowns as he looks in the mirror, feeling like it’s missing something. He gets an idea and throws a hat on, but that just makes it look like he’s going to little league practice. Just to see what happens, he turns the hat backwards and almost laughs. He just looks like a gay Pokemon trainer, which in a different context might actually be a  _ look _ … No, he takes the hat off, settling for just the shirt and jeans. It’s comfortable, casual, and he’ll be able to dance in it.

It’s been a long while since he really danced and let loose. He doesn’t really count dancing around his own apartment, that’s usually more casual and done sober. Well, sometimes. He’d disposed of more empty wine bottles than one young man probably should over the course of one month.

Eric almost yells when his phone buzzes.

**Caleb: hey, you almost ready? I can call us an Uber!**

He looks around at the mess on his floor. He bites his lip, sighing. Cleanup can wait.

**Yeah! I’ll meet you downstairs in a few!**

He shakes his head.  _ Two exclamation points, Eric? He’s gonna think you’re  _ way _ too eager… _

**Caleb: awesome!!!**

Never mind, that’s three for just one word. He’s in the clear. He takes one last look in the mirror, quickly checking his teeth and trying to fluff his hair into place before heading downstairs, trying hard not to run. Adrenaline and anxiety are fighting hand-to-hand, a victor not yet decided as he sees Caleb sitting on a bench in the lobby. He’s wearing all black; jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket. On someone else Eric might see this as more of a goth look, but on Caleb it just sort of looks...right.

“Hey,” Caleb says, standing. “Good timing, the Uber just got here.” Eric notices his eyes quickly scan him up and down, stopping briefly at his midriff, exposed every so slightly, then coming back up to his face. “Like the shirt,” he comments before turning for the door. “You might be a little cold without a jacket, though.”

Eric almost slaps himself, remembering how chilly the walk home had been earlier. Either way, the Uber was already there, so he would have to tough it out. He follows Caleb out to the car.

 

* * *

The second Eric wakes up the next morning, the first thing he knows is that his head hurts.  _ A lot _ . He keeps his eyes closed, trying to block out the sunlight coming in through the window. The events of the previous night run through his mind like a movie. Well, what he can remember, anyway.

They had gone to the club that Caleb and his friends usually go to, which was exciting and completely nerve wracking for Eric. He had never been to a gay club before. Or any kind of club, for that matter. The pounding music and mass of bodies dancing was initially very intimidating, but after basically chugging his first vodka soda he was ready to join the fray.

He doesn’t remember how much the two of them actually talked. It would’ve been pretty hard to do so over all the noise, but he does remember how much fun it was dancing with Caleb. There’s a vague memory of someone cutting between them and wrapping his arms around Eric’s shoulders. Initially he wasn’t really opposed to it; the guy was pretty hot, and this was after another vodka soda. Or was it two? Following this memory is one of Caleb politely asking him to leave them alone, which worked well if Eric recalls correctly. This is where things start to get a little fuzzy. He can’t remember exactly how long they had stayed, or exactly how many drinks he’d had. He’s usually good at controlling himself, but for some reason last night he just couldn’t be bothered to count his drinks. For some reason he has a feeling that his shirt came off completely at one point, but then ended up back on his body.

Most concerning of all, he doesn’t at all remember coming home. Well, maybe not  _ that _ concerning, considering that he’s at least  _ made _ it home. He finally forces his eyes open, yawning.

_ Wait. This is not my apartment. _ He also has the sudden realization that Caleb’s jacket is lying next to him, right next to his shirt and pants. His mind starts to race.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck _ . He looks to his right and sees none other than Caleb lying on the floor, fast asleep. Eric is frozen in place, not exactly sure what to do. He looks around for his phone and starts to freak out even more when he doesn’t see it anywhere. As he starts looking through the sheets around him, Caleb wakes up on the floor.

Eric holds his breath as Caleb stretches, still wearing his jeans but completely topless.

“Oh, you’re awake, cool,” Caleb says. “I was worried you might die in your sleep,” he jokes as he stands up.

Eric stares at him, eyes a little wide. “Um, Caleb…” he starts, afraid to ask the question because he isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer.

“Yeah?” he yawns, stretching his arms over his head. Despite the possible heaviness of the situation, Eric can’t help but stare at Caleb’s body, thin but toned. His skin pale, hair on his chest that leads down to his belly button, and then down...

“Did we, um....”

Caleb narrows his eyes, searching for the end of Eric’s question. They fly open when he makes the connection.

“Oh, God, what?! No, nothing happened!” he says. He sounds genuine.

“So we didn’t sleep together,” Eric confirms, breathing out in relief. Why does a small part of him feel disappointed.

“Eric, you were  _ trashed _ , that would be super fucked up if I, uh…”

Eric nods, smiling slightly as a blush creeps into his cheeks. He didn’t like being that messy, especially in front of someone like Caleb, but here he is, in Caleb’s bed, nearly naked.  _ Wait a minute _ .

“Hold on, what about my clothes?” Eric asks, trying not to sound accusatory. Caleb chuckles.

“You refused to go to bed in them. Said they smelled like alcohol and man sweat, and that sleeping in the clothes you wore that day is morally wrong.”

Eric relaxes again, laughing. He’s not super familiar with his own drunk tendencies, but it sounds legitimate enough. He has to wonder why Caleb’s shirtless, too, but then again, it  _ is _ his apartment.

“I didn’t do anything  _ too _ stupid, did I?”

Caleb frowns slightly, his eyes shifting upward as he tries to recall. “I mean you kept trying to take your shirt off, which for that club is really sort of the norm. And you almost fell on your face on the way out. Other than that, you were just really drunk. But so was almost everybody else there, so… A little bit handsy too,” he mutters, turning around to go into the kitchen.

Eric blushes furiously again, not really recalling whatever led Caleb to say that.

“Why is your jacket in bed with me?” Eric asks, taking the opportunity to quickly pull his clothes back on while Caleb is in the kitchen.

“Oh, I gave it to you when we left,” Caleb says casually as he pulls a carton out of his fridge. “You want some eggs?”

Eric sighs, coming into the kitchen. “I don’t know, I should probably go,” he mumbles, staring at the door.

“Have something better to do?” he asks as he cracks an egg into a bowl.

Eric pauses. “No, I…” He tries to think of an excuse, but comes up empty.

Caleb turns to him, pointing at his chest with the fork he has just used to beat the egg. “There’s no need to feel embarrassed, if that’s what this is about.”

Eric splutters for a second, trying to argue that it’s not at all what this is about, but fails.

“We’re all the messy drunk now and again, Eric. And if it makes you feel any better, I had a really great time with you.”

He doesn’t wait for Eric to respond before he turns back around and picks up another egg. “How many do you want?”

“Two,” Eric replies, jumping up and sitting on his counter. “And I had fun, too. I think,” he says, laughing. “From what I can remember, anyway.”

Caleb lets out a huff of laughter and shakes his head. “You’re not like that every time, are you?”

Eric shrugs. “I haven’t done a whole lot of drinking in my life, honestly. I mean, I drink a lot of wine on my own, but something about vodka just really gets me.”

“I get that,” Caleb responds. “Next time, let’s just try to keep things under control, okay?” he says, his tone playful. Eric nods, embarrassed.

“The last time I drank even close to as much as that was during this week of parties that we threw at the house I lived in over the summer,” Eric starts, suddenly compelled to share a little bit about himself.

“A whole week? Sounds…” Caleb searches for the right word. “Interesting,” is what he settles on.

“Yeah, apparently it’s their tradition. My friends back home, I mean,” he says. While Boston isn’t technically his home, after everything that happened with his parents it certainly feels like the closest thing. “They all knew each other in college, so I guess that’s when it started.”

“And they’re all, like, real adults at this point?”

Eric laughs. “They throw an annual weeklong party, I don’t think I need to answer that question.”

Caleb chuckles, pouring the beaten eggs into a pan that’s been heating. “Oh, shit. Is scrambled alright?” he asks, looking slightly concerned.

Eric frowns. “Is there a way you can unscramble them?”

Caleb looks into the pan. “I mean it’s pretty much irreversible at this point, but I can just grab a couple more eggs if you—”

“Relax, I was just joking! Scrambled is perfect,” Eric interrupts, grinning.

Caleb rolls his eyes. “I really thought for a second that you wanted me to try  _ unscrambling _ these fucking eggs.”

Something has changed about Caleb for Eric. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s shirtless in his kitchen cooking eggs for him. Or knowing that he had given Eric his jacket like the main character of an 80s romcom and still wants to speak to him even despite his drunk behavior. There’s something softer there, something warm and almost...unsure. Eric’s first impression of Caleb was that he was confident to the point of being arrogant, and annoyingly stoic. But now, he sees that underneath that demeanor Caleb is...afraid?

It makes sense, now that Eric thinks about it some more. He’s decided to make a career in the music business and found little success so far. He’s sort of in free fall in terms of his life path, almost as if his road has completely ended and he’s waiting for somebody else to help him continue building it.

Caleb hands Eric a plate of eggs with a piece of toast, leaning against the counter to his left.

“You know, I do have a table we could sit at,” he says, gesturing to the small table in the next room.

Eric grins and he shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth, swinging his legs that don’t come close to the floor. “But this is so much more fun.”

Caleb chuckles, shrugging. “So, any fun stories from this week of parties? There’s no way you all got through that without some tales to tell.”

Eric feels a wave of nostalgia as he thinks back to Smashfest. Kent Parson stripping in their living room was definitely a highlight...lowlight? It stands out. There’s of course being included in the sacred friendship toast. The backyard fireworks on the Fourth of July. Spin the bottle. Witnessing Jack’s panic attack, bringing him beer the next day and hearing his life story. In fact, a lot of that week had revolved around Jack, now that he thinks about it all as one entity. He frowns, trying to remember anything else that has to do with his friends, but unfortunately comes up pretty empty.

“I had my first kiss that week,” Eric says carefully, taking a bite of his toast. 

“Whoah whoah whoah, hold on. And that’s just this past summer we’re talking about?”

Eric nods, taking another bite.

“So you’d never been kissed until a few months ago,” Caleb confirms.

“Yes!” Eric says, laughing. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Caleb shrugs, stuttering for a second. “I don’t know, you’re sweet, you’re attractive… I know you said you never had a boyfriend until recently, but  _ damn _ .” He pauses, giving Eric a slightly amazed look. “Wait, so does that mean your first boyfriend was also your first kiss?” he asks, his eyes suddenly alight with romance.

Eric hums. “Actually, no. One of my close friends. His name is...Well, we call him Shitty. He refuses to tell us his real name, actually.”

Caleb laughs, a short puff of air. “It sounds like your friends are really weird people.”

Eric smiles. “Yeah, I’d say that’s accurate. Anyway, it was just a stupid game of spin the bottle. And just a couple minutes later,  _ then _ I kissed my boyfriend.” He feels his blood run cold. “Um,  _ ex _ ...boyfriend…” he says, correcting himself.

“You still seem pretty fucked up over this guy,” Caleb says, his voice suddenly gentle. “What exactly happened there?”

Eric looks down at his plate, pushing his remaining eggs around with his fork.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it. It’s just...last time it came up you went all vague on me. I know I can be nosy sometimes,” he says, chuckling.

“Well,” Eric says with a sigh. Is he really about to tell Caleb about Jack? “I don’t really feel like going into the nitty gritty of it,” he explains, “but basically...he was my first love.”

Caleb gasps quietly, scooting his chair a little closer. Listening intently.

“We lived in the same house; he was part of that friend group. He was my first crush, too, and I spent the whole summer driving myself crazy over him, convinced that he didn’t—couldn’t—feel the same way.”

“But he did,” Caleb says quietly.

Eric nods. “As it turns out, he liked me quite a bit, but  _ he _ thought that  _ I _ didn’t like  _ him _ back, so we sort of went in circles for a while, there. Then some really messed up things happened, which I don’t really feel like talking about right now, if I’m honest, and everything sort of just came out! And until the end of August, things were...well, unreal. Like I said, I didn’t think there was any way in  _ hell _ that this boy liked me back, so when we got together every single moment was like a dream.”

Caleb nods, smiling  _ so _ gently.

“Things moved...quickly. Too quickly, as it turns out.”

“Oh. Did you two ever, um…”

“Yeah, we had sex,” Eric says, not in the mood to dance around anything. “And in the moment it felt so right, but afterwards it hit us—well, it hit me, at least—that we really were in love but things weren’t quite going how they should.”

“So, is that why you broke up?”

Eric shakes his head. “No, but it certainly contributed to it. One of the main reasons is the fact that I’m here. When Holly asked me if I wanted to move out West and run the bakery, he was the first person I told. He sort of freaked out and cut off from me completely, the whole rest of the time I was home, which was about a week, up until the moment before I left.”

Caleb is frowning now. “Sounds kinda shitty.”

Eric shrugs. “Maybe. He had his reasons. Anyway, I had to force him to say goodbye to me, and even that wasn’t even really good closure. Probably not for him, either.”

“Wow,” Caleb breathes, not taking his eyes off Eric as he picks up a piece of toast. “I take it you haven’t talked to him since?”

Eric shakes his head. “No way. I don’t know if I could.”

“I don’t think I could either!” Caleb says, throwing his bread down. “One more week together and he just throws it down the drain?”

“I mean, I guess, but— “ Eric tries to say.

“This guy sounds like a real piece of work, if you ask me.”

_ I didn’t really ask you _ .

“He wasn’t even willing to try to stay together? Even long distance?”

Eric feels himself getting a little defensive. And then angry. But not at Caleb.

“Well, he was about to move to a new city, too. Start a new chapter of his life. It was all just a little overwhelming.”

Caleb picks the toast back up, munching on it thoughtfully. “It just sounds to me like he threw away something great. I mean, clearly you’re still affected by this, so it must have been pretty serious.”

“I guess,” Eric replies, pushing his plate away from him. “I did learn that keeping your feelings hidden isn’t really a good idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he starts, “if we had just been honest with each other sooner, we would have had a lot more time together. I mean, of course at the beginning of the summer we had no idea we would end up parting ways, but if we had more time to develop that relationship then things might be different now.”

All of the what-ifs that Eric’s been trying to ignore suddenly flood his mind. Visions of texts from Jack, late-night post-practice calls, following the Falconers religiously, live tweeting every game… It felt so real, like it  _ should _ be happening, but something went wrong. A turn was made too early, or too late, and now they’re stuck on one way roads travelling in opposite directions.

“You miss him anyway? Even though he sort of fucked you over?” Caleb asks.

Eric scoffs. “You don’t know the whole story, it’s not as simple as that.”

“But isn’t it? At the end of the day, it sounds like you wanted to move forward and he pulled all the way back.”

“I mean...If you want to break it down into its simplest form, that’s not necessarily inaccurate. It’s just not the whole story,” he repeats. There’s a pause.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb says, biting at his cheek. “Either way, I think you deserve better.”

Not sure what’s come over him, Eric suddenly leans forward and kisses Caleb.  _ Fuck Jack _ , he thinks.  _ I’m sick of being alone _ .

Caleb lets out a little surprised moan as Eric’s lips meet his, but after a second he’s kissing him back. He tastes like breakfast and fall and a night of irresponsible fun that leads into a morning of the same. The scruff on his chin rubs so right against Eric’s jaw as Caleb gently cups his face, surprisingly more gentle than Eric would have thought.

Suddenly they’re standing, eyes closed, stumbling away from the table and toward Caleb’s bed. Eric’s shirt is no longer on him, though he hardly remembers it being taken off. Luckily, Caleb had never put his back on. He gently pushes Eric down onto the bed, crawling on top of him to grind down against him. Eric moans; suddenly there’s only one man he wants, and his hands are taking off Eric’s pants.

Caleb comes up for air, licking his lips. “Put my jacket on,” he instructs.

Eric looks at him quizzically, shifting up onto his elbows. “Why?”

“So I can be the one to take it off you,” Caleb responds, eyes hooded with lust.

Eric does as he’s told, reaching out his arm to grab the jacket from the bed next to him. He puts it on, the leather slightly cold against his skin.

“Fuck,” Caleb says, barely a whisper. “You know, I’ve wanted to do this since the day we met.”

“Me too,” Eric responds, not fully sure if he means it, but too turned on to care as Caleb’s hands slip between the leather and his skin, somehow delicate but strong and sure, feeling their way over Eric’s thin body.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, hope in his eyes.

_ No _ .  _ Not fully, anyway _ .

“Yes,” Eric says, moaning as Caleb kisses his neck. “And I’m definitely sober now, too.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Caleb responds, laughing darkly to himself.

Eric has a brief moment of panic where his brain realizes just what he’s doing, but that all goes away when Caleb kisses him again, long and hot and void of any emotion that isn’t pure lust.

“I’ll bet I can fuck you better than he did.”

 

* * *

They’re sitting in the kitchen again, a pair of Caleb’s socks on Eric’s feet, which had gotten cold after they were finished.

He has a cup of coffee in his hands and he’s staring straight ahead. Caleb is still in bed, half asleep, singing quietly to himself. It would be a perfect morning if Eric didn’t feel so terrible about what they’d just done.

It was a familiar feeling. Rushed. Desperate. Regret. Before, during, he had tried to convince himself that he would feel better once it was done. All of this mutual attraction had to lead  _ somewhere,  _ right? And now that it had, maybe he could move past it? The thought of having to see Caleb the following day makes him shudder. He’s not ready to face that quite yet.

Really, the thing that bothers him the most is that the sex was  _ good _ . Granted, he didn’t have much to compare it to. But Caleb was clearly more experienced than Jack had been, and his personality was much different, too. He was more rough, more willing to push boundaries of what Eric thought he could do. He almost wanted more...No. As fun as it was, he thinks back to his conversation with Maggie. Caleb was his only employee, it would be unprofessional to continue anything between the two of them. Plus, there was something that rubbed him the wrong way about how their morning had gone. Caleb had gently coaxed all of this information out of him about Jack, and then suddenly they were in his bed.

Sure, Eric was the one who initiated the first kiss. But that kiss had no intentions, and it seemed like Caleb knew exactly what he was doing.

 

“Maybe...we could do this again, sometime?” Caleb asks as Eric is half out his door.

“You mean go clubbing together?” Eric knows that’s not what he meant.

Caleb scratches his head. “I mean, yeah we can definitely do that. But I sort of meant—“

Eric sighs. “Yeah, no, I know what you meant. I don’t know, Caleb. We have to  _ work _ together, you know? Aren’t you worried that it might make things weird?”

He thinks for a second. “I mean it would definitely be weirder if this was a one time thing and then we just pretended that it never happened.”

Eric purses his lips. There’s some truth to that, sure.

“I-I don’t know. I guess I’ll think about it?”

Caleb smiles; that answer is acceptable. “Yeah, think about it,” he says with a wink, closing the door.

Eric sighs, grateful that his walk of shame is just up a flight of stairs. He takes a shower as soon as he gets back to his apartment, trying to wash off the feeling of guilt that lingers just beneath his pores. At one point he had looked into Caleb’s eyes and thought they were Jack’s, so then the whole rest of the time…

He lets the water runs down his back, hot and sharp against his skin. He’s suddenly so unsure about everything around him, now that he has a chance to slow down and think. The past 24 hours feel fabricated, they had just been so out of character for him. Like he had slipped into an alternate universe briefly. He almost feels like crying, but he can’t figure out exactly why. So he doesn’t. Instead, he turns around and lets the water hit his face, his eyelids fluttering.

Once he’s dry, he puts on the comfiest shorts he own and curls up in bed, pulling his covers over his body. After Jack, he had felt conflicted but for a different reason. With Caleb, he just felt so  _ ashamed _ afterward. Maybe it was because it didn’t mean anything. Maybe it’s because he wishes it had.

He pulls out his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen as he considers texting Lardo. He sighs, locking the phone and putting it on the table next to him. He would tell her eventually. Just not yet. After all, she seemed so hesitant when he initially brought up the topic of Caleb, so he’s not sure she would be too proud if she found out about Eric’s decision. And the last thing he wants right now is to disappoint her.

His body feels like it’s not his own anymore, no matter how hard he squeezes his arms around his knees. Like he’s betrayed himself entirely, like he’s given away another part of himself that he wasn’t quite ready to give up. A part he can’t get back. He drags a hand through his damp hair, trying to relax but unsure of what would distract him or clear his mind. Eventually, he just falls asleep, dreaming of a pair of blue eyes looking right into his. Unsure of whose face they’re attached to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this chapter ended up being a long one. I'm on vacation right now so I've had a lot of time to just sit around and write, which is the only reason I managed to churn out such a beefy chapter only a couple days after posting for the first time in MONTHS. Anyway. Hope y'all enjoy and I'd love to hear what you're thinking about this fic so far <3


	5. you make my heart shake, bend and break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by: [Wild by Troye Sivan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3awzvNrKDsg)

Eric is sitting in Caleb’s bathroom, trying to block out the faint sound of buzzing coming from behind him. He taps his foot violently, chewing on his bottom lip as he feels the first swipe and accidentally lets out a small gasp. He hears Caleb chuckle, then he kisses the back of Eric’s neck and goes in for a second pass, humming calmly to himself.

He’s not sure how the fuck it he allowed this to happen, but Caleb is cutting his hair. He’d mentioned at one point that he used to cut his siblings’ hair when he was younger, and in the middle of sticking his tongue down Eric’s throat he’d pushed his fingers into blond hair and frowned, pulling away. Eric had frowned back, not wanting to stop, but Caleb just shook his head and laughed.

“The hair has really gotten way out of control,” he giggled. “No self respecting gay man should let his hair get to this point.”

Eric had just raised an eyebrow; Caleb’s hair was also rather long and often a little more than messy, though he _claimed_ this was part of his musician image and if he cut it off he would look even more average than he already did.

So now, Eric is sitting on one of the stools from Caleb’s kitchen, hands fighting a battle in his lap to see which is more nervous as they writhe together. He sniffles as hair falls in clumps and little bits of it float around him, gently through the air like fluffy, golden snow. Eric had tried to insist that he would finally go look for a barbershop, but Caleb insisted even harder that this was easier and also free. The word free had a lot of power.

For example, anytime Eric received a text that said something along the lines of:

**hey, are u free?**

He would be down the flight of stairs between them faster than he previously thought a human could. Caleb had been right about one thing: just the one hookup would’ve been nearly impossible to deal with at work due to an overwhelming awkwardness. But it’s a fairly common occurrence, now, just a few weeks beyond that hazy morning preceded by such a blurred and colorful night. It’s always Caleb who texts him, and every time he tries to talk himself out of it. Then he remembers just how good it feels when Caleb rips his clothes off like a horny high schooler, so desperate to get his hands on Eric that the world beyond their lips and their hands and the bed beneath them suddenly separates completely, leaving them stranded on an island of pleasure and warmth and sounds they can’t help but make.

All that matters is that so much skin is touching skin, and hands are touching so much skin, and lips are touching _so much_ skin. Caleb practically devours Eric every time, always biting and nipping at a few choice places (earlobe, bottom lip, left nipple— yes, usually just the left one, he hasn’t decided why— tensed ass) before taking him however Eric wants. That’s always his choice, “How do you want it today, baby?” That sometimes feels like the only choice he really has in the whole matter.

Needless to say, he’s had to do some research on uncommon sex positions to keep up with the ones they’ve gone through and maintain _some_ aspect of control. While a few have really struck nerves with Eric in the best way possible, there’s still a part of him that wants to try it all. Caleb is _enraptured_ with his body, practically obsessed with how delicate it looks but how sturdy it really is under the exterior. Eric figures that he might as well take advantage of this sex drive on legs and try to get some things out of his system and figure out what he likes, what he doesn’t.

At work, things are perfectly normal. Too normal. Maggie had noticed about a week after their second hookup, after which they agreed that at work they were nothing more than friendly colleagues with a passion for baked goods. There was another talk with Eric, who reminded her that he was very serious about the success of the bakery and really took her words to heart about professionalism and had a talk with Caleb. And he left it at that. Not a lie, really, but only a very small slice of the truth, sitting cold on a shiny, white plate. Every so often one of them would slip. A look would linger for one second too many. Fingers would brush, taking a longer time to pull away than coworkers should. Luckily, Maggie had missed any moments like these so far, at least that Eric could tell.

He really blames the whole situation on having to repress so much of his sexuality throughout his life. And of course, on the emotional blue balls he’s been dealing with since the summer ended. Suddenly, he was having all the sex he wanted, and the post sex conversations were more or less providing the emotional outlet he needed. He finds out a lot about Caleb in the first three weeks of hooking up.

Caleb grew up fairly poor, hence little things like having to learn how to cut hair and having such a good work ethic. Like he had mentioned during his interview, he grew up in Washington and Eric also found out that he has two younger sisters and a younger brother. He was initially going to be a lacrosse player, as he was pretty decent when he was in high school (which helped Eric realize why his body looked the way it did). However, a few years after his youngest sister was born his father left their family without warning. Caleb had to shift his attention to taking care of his siblings with his mother. She was a singer still struggling to find success, so until Caleb found a steady job things were pretty rough. Even after, from what it sounded like. However, Caleb also mentioned that all of his musical ability came from her so there was no way he would ever ask her to give up on music.

So then of course, there’s _his_ music. Caleb’s music. It wasn’t until mid-October that Eric finally convinced Caleb to play something for him. There was a guitar that sat in the corner of his room and ever since that first morning together, Eric had wondered just how good Caleb was.

Listening to him play was electrifying. The way his fingers expertly plucked and strummed stringers, drawing melodies out of the instrument not unlike the way he plays the intricacies of Eric’s body with the same fingers. It’s the first time he can say he feels jealous of a musical instrument.

Caleb’s singing voice was a little raspy, a little higher than Eric had expected, but there’s such a power behind it. It made Eric’s entire being melt every time he opened his mouth, like golden butter spread on top of a fresh baked piece of pumpernickel.

“Will you stop squirming?” Caleb asks.

Eric pouts and groans but tries to control his movements, but as Caleb pushes just slightly too hard with the clippers he draws in a hiss through closed teeth.

“Can you be more gentle?” he asks, feeling extremely vulnerable as Caleb continues to buzz away.

That seemed to be a common theme when Eric was with him. He often found himself either quietly wishing Caleb could be more gentle, or straight up asking him to lay off. Giving massages seemed to be another one of Caleb’s random talents, but Eric actually found bruises the next day once and has avoided that since. It was a strange contrast between his memories of summertime, when everything had been so soft and warm and gentle and flowing. Even Jack, hockey player Jack who could probably snap Eric in half, did everything in his power to make sure Eric was comfortable at all times. That wasn’t as much of a priority for Caleb.

He has his tender moments, of course. The way he’s kissing Eric’s bare shoulders as he brushes hair off them. The insatiable desire to cuddle that inevitably follows every orgasm. Sporadic acts of thoughtfulness. Hand squeezes. Soft smiles.

Regardless, Eric already associates him more with the chilly autumn winds that pick up dead leaves and send them swirling, hard, rough edges and the smell of smoke and whiskey and the prick of nails against skin. The purely physical. At least, that’s what they agreed it would be. Serving strictly sex with a side of friendship.

“I’m almost done, I think,” Caleb murmurs after a few more minutes. He’s holding his phone up to the back of Eric’s head, comparing his own work to the picture Eric gave him for reference. Eric looks down at the puddles of his own hair below them, sitting sadly on the cold bathroom floor.

 _Good_ , he thinks. _It’ll be much harder for him to pull on it now_.

After a few finishing touches, Caleb spins him around, grinning madly.

“Damn, I’ve still got it,” he says, looking at Eric’s hair with admiration. Eric looks at himself in the mirror, shocked that it actually looks _good_. Although after Caleb had proven his claims about making good bagels, Eric isn’t sure why he was ever apprehensive. He was fairly protective of his hair, though, and was glad that Caleb hadn’t managed to mangle it.

“It looks really good,” he says, his voice cracking for some goddamn reason.

Caleb’s face behind him switches emotions instantly, hearing the hitch. “Oh, fuck, you hate it, don’t you?”

Eric laughs and shakes his head. “No! _No_ ,” he repeats upon seeing Caleb’s expression. “Caleb, really. Thank you,” he says, his voice more even and controlled now. What had just come over him?

Caleb sighs, sitting down on the sink next to him. “Fuck, you really scared me there,” he says, laughing breathlessly.

Eric picks up a pair of scissors. “I get to do you now, right?” he asks, opening and closing the scissors a few times. Something about the sharp snip of blade rushing past blade calms him considerably.

“Hilarious. Very funny. Those scissors will be sticking out of your neck if you put them anywhere near my head!”

Eric rolls his eyes, trying not to envision that gruesome image. He stands up, brushing as much hair off as he can, and puts his shirt back on. Being the only one of them not clothed during the process had not been the most comfortable experience, even despite the amount of times Caleb has seen him completely naked.

There was just...something about Caleb that made it really hard to open up. Eric couldn’t put his finger on it, but even after discovering the raw, blooming artist beneath the surface he so often felt awkward and defensive around Caleb. But what outweighs his worry is the intrigue that walks with it, hand in hand. He feels like there’s still so much brewing underneath the surface that’s hardly been scratched.

Every single time Eric returns to his own apartment after an...appointment, he finds himself more and more confused about how he’s feeling. He always notices some ghost of regret follow him up the stairs, staring at him from the corner of the room, but has never acknowledged it. While they’re in bed together, Eric is able to ignore that feeling and instead focus on some more pleasurable ones, but once on his own again he starts to wonder where the hell things are going. He fantasizes about nights more similar to that first one, waking up in Caleb’s bed, talking over a nice breakfast and letting the day go by. But of course, there’s only one day a week when that would be hypothetically possible, if they hadn’t created a “no sleeping over” rule after hookup three.

Mostly, Eric misses the innocence of those first few weeks of knowing each other. The blushing, the stammering, the damn hopeless flirting that made his feet feel like they were lifted off the ground. Now it was either strictly sex or strictly friendship with almost no in between or overlap (save for a few moments that have caught Eric off guard, like Caleb being so surprisingly intimate while cutting his hair). It makes Eric wonder if there ever _could_ be anything more there. Or if there should be. Could Caleb also be feeling the desire for something more, or were some people really able to just separate sex and feelings like that?

They had reluctantly agreed toward the beginning—by Caleb’s suggestion, oddly enough—that feelings were no good here unless they were strictly platonic or strictly lustful in nature. Despite being just another rule in their book, Eric guesses that this is Caleb’s way of being considerate of Eric’s feelings, and about the fact that he’s probably still not over the summer.

Which he is not, yet. Not even close, really. In fact, a small rift in the balance had occurred just a few days prior, when Eric found himself saying the wrong name in bed without even thinking, which of course _instantly_ killed the mood. Not only did it kill the mood, but it woke up a different one in Caleb, one that was angry. Eric could tell that underneath the exterior of feigned understanding, there was a beast of betrayal rearing its head.

It was at this point he almost considered telling Caleb. _Almost_. It nearly slipped out of his mouth before he could change his mind, but then he thought about it for just one second longer and realized that nothing good could come of it for either of them and it might ruin things completely, so he decided to drop it.

He didn’t tell Caleb that he found himself thinking of Jack every time.

 

* * *

 

Eric sighs as he pushes the bakery door open, carrying two large bags of ingredients in his hands that he quickly deposits on a counter in the kitchen. He’s in on a Sunday, which feels _so_ wrong given the routine he’s so quickly fallen into, but he has a lot of work to do. The good news is all the baking he’s doing is for a wedding reception, which is still blowing his mind a decent amount. Catering isn’t something he had ever considered doing because Holly tends to steer away from it at the bakery back home, but the opportunity to network and put the bakery’s name on something so fancy was hard to resist.

Plus, it was a same sex wedding. And Eric is always down to support that gay shit.

One of the bakery’s regulars, Chris, is one of the grooms, and last week he had brought his fiance Giovanni to the bakery to check things out. Eric was thrilled to find out that their wedding was going to be local and before he could even passively suggest that he could supply some food, the couple was asking about catering pricing. Eric and Maggie set up an appointment to sit down with them later that evening after the bakery had closed and worked out all the details. Had Maggie not been there, Eric would’ve simply drowned in all of it, but luckily all that was left to do for him was bake. _A lot._

He gets to work immediately. The couple had requested an assortment of cupcakes, which were easy enough to make. But only so many pans could fit in the oven at one time. Eric sighs as he throws on an apron, pulling a crumpled list out of his pocket and studying the list of six flavors he would need to make. After a minute, he decides the best order for making them based on which ones keep their texture the longest and pulls out every bowl he has, losing himself in a flurry of batter and frosting. The world outside the bakery suddenly becomes other, even the small piece of it that occasionally slips inside and curls up comfortably in the corner, waiting for Eric to return home so it can jump on his lap and kiss him over and over. He’s reminded of long days at the bakery in Boston, trays flying in and out of ovens to meet customer demand.

This pressure is a different one, of course. He’s comforted by the knowledge that nobody is waiting on the other side of the kitchen, eagerly anticipating their box of goodies. The timing is less important now, so the quality becomes his main priority. Quality and organization. That reminds him to take out a stack of the largest boxes they have, placing them out on the front counter for now. Maggie would be helping him out later with sorting all of the cupcakes and transporting them to the ballroom where the reception was being held, but he could worry about that later.

About an hour in, he hears the door open and stops what he’s doing. Maggie isn’t supposed to be there for another hour, at least. He realizes that he had forgotten to lock the door and sighs, wiping his hands on his apron. He heads out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, we’re actually closed today, I’m just—Caleb?”

Sure enough, Caleb is pushing past the front counter.

“What are you doing here?” Eric asks, his tone more vicious than he’d meant. He’s just baffled.

“I thought we had plans today.”

Eric raises an eyebrow. “I don’t remember making any plans.”

“Well, I mean, I guess not _plans_ , but…” He trails off.

“Oh my god,” Eric mutters. “You know, there’s this great thing that they invented called _porn_!” he grumbles as he starts back into the kitchen. Then he stops and turns back around. “Wait, how did you know I was here?”

There’s a pause. Not long enough to be awkward, but enough that Eric takes note of it.

“I, um, just assumed, I guess. Where else would you go, right?” Caleb says. He has a point.

“Okay,” Eric says slowly. “I don’t get why you couldn’t have just texted me but… Anyway, now isn’t really a good time. You know that wedding reception? The one they came in sort of last minute for? It’s today.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I’m a little busy.” What an understatement. He still has to frost and decorate all of the cupcakes, and a lot of them aren’t even done baking yet.

“Do you want help?”

Eric pauses, considering it for a brief moment before shaking his head.

“No, I have a system going on and I don’t need someone coming in and making everything go all screwy.”

Caleb smirks. “Well if you really _wanted_ to, we could—”

“In my bakery? I think the _hell_ not, Caleb Banks. If I’m feeling up to it later, maybe I’ll text you.”

He frowns. Eric curses himself for spoiling Caleb for a month and always responding immediately to his “you up?” texts. Now he’s not used to being put on hold, to being denied that instant gratification.

“Oh,” he repeats, more than a little disappointed. “Well, there was also something I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, his tone lifting slightly.

Eric taps his foot because there are cupcakes in the oven, dammit. “Yes?” The bakery is the only place where he really feels like he has power. The upper hand. He’s not sure he would be so snippy with Caleb if they were just at his apartment.

Caleb narrows his eyes _just_ slightly, as if to say ‘I caught that tone, and I’m not a fan.’

“I just wanted to ask if you were interested in doing something a little different from our usual next Sunday, but clearly this isn’t a good time, so I’m just gonna go.”

Eric sighs as Caleb turns around, shaking his head.

“Caleb, wait. Stop,” he says with more force than intended. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m just really stressed out right now.”

“Clearly,” Caleb responds, turning back around.

“What do you mean by ‘different?’” Eric asks.

“They just opened up a really cool mini golf course about twenty minutes from here. I was wondering if you wanted to go...together.”

Eric’s heart jumps a little bit. Oh. Mini golf. That was more than a _little_ different than what they usually did on their day off. This was going twenty minutes out of their way to spend time together, to have some fun that didn’t involve their bodies pressed up against each other. Why is his face suddenly so hot?

“I can’t remember the last time I went mini golfing,” Eric says, chuckling nervously. That feeling was back, that innocent nervous tingle in his stomach. He doesn’t want it to stop.

“Is that a yes?” Caleb asks, poorly masking the hope behind his blue eyes.

Eric thinks about it for a second. It’s not like he has anything better to do, but the prospect of spending time with Caleb in that context is...complicated, to say the least.

“Yes,” he finally says. “Yeah, I’m in!”

Caleb smiles gently. “Awesome. Can’t wait. Good luck with everything today, I’ll see you later.”

He says that last part with more certainty than he should given Eric’s previous attitude, but he realizes that Caleb’s right anyway. He would definitely be seeing Eric later.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, a wedding reception? Like, a real one?” Lardo asks. Eric tries hard not to be offended, hearing that she’s more impressed than confused.

“Yes, a _real_ wedding reception. For a gay couple, too!”

She gasps. “Holy shit, that must’ve been a fucking dream for you!”

Eric chuckles, thinking about how many cupcakes he made that day, and then the fiasco of their van rental almost falling through and nearly dropping an entire stack of boxes while bringing them inside. All of this aside, the couple had been extremely grateful and ended up paying even more than they had agreed on after finding out that Eric is also gay.

“I had a feeling,” Chris had explained, “but I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“Really, I just can’t this much money from you. They’re just cupcakes!” Eric had said, laughing in exasperation.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we do everything we can to support our people,” Chris had said with a wink.

After the wedding, Eric had in fact come home and made a stop on the third floor, then called Lardo as soon as he got back to his own apartment. It’s time to tell her.

“Yeah,” he says, “I guess it was pretty cool that I got to do that.”

“Bits, what’s up? You seem super on edge, I would think you’d be high on a day like this one.”

He sighs, gathering up all the courage he has. “I think I’m going on a date next weekend.”

“A date? With who? You haven’t told me about any boys, unless… Hold on, it’s not bakery boy, is it?”

Eric pauses, trying to think of an answer, but the silence is all she needs. “Eric,” she says with a sigh, “are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No offense, but you don’t even know this guy! Your idea of him is based on the things I said about him. I didn’t really like him much in the beginning, I admit, but now…”

“Now what?”

He hadn’t been planning to tell her about the whole friends with benefits situation, but it’s feeling more and more like he’s going to have to in order to make any sense.

“I don’t know, I’ve just come around,” he says, trying not to laugh at the unintended double meaning. “He’s really sweet and understanding and he doesn’t treat me like I’m a little kid.”

“And Jack wasn’t any of those things?”

Eric scoffs and takes a second to rein in his tongue. “What does Jack have to do with any of this?”

“Eric…” she says, sighing. “I’m sorry, that was a weird thing to say.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Jack and I aren’t together anymore. That’s the whole fucking _problem_ , Larissa.”

He regrets using her real name immediately, especially in such a biting manner. He can count on one hand how many times he’s called her that.

“You know what? Maybe we should talk later,” she says carefully. “I think we’re both just in shitty moods and I don’t want either of us to say something we regret.”

Eric feels tears welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, things have just been weird lately.”

“What do you mean? We talk almost every day, is there something you haven’t told me?”

_Yes._

“No, it’s not that. I’m still just not used to being alone out here, I guess.”

“And that’s what I’m worried about, Bits. Do you actually like this guy, or are you just—”

“What, trying to replace Jack?” he says, defensive all over again.

“I didn’t _say_ _that_ , I just meant that—”

“Save it, I know what you meant,” he says, trying to be calm.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Look, can I be perfectly honest with you?”

“Seems like we’re already there, so why the hell not?”

Lardo sighs. “Eric, I know we’re super close. And I don’t want that to change, now or ever. You’re like a fucking brother to me. But at the end of the day, I’ve known Jack for _years_. I’ve been there for some really serious shit in his life, and I guess I’ve always just been a little protective of him. Seeing you him with you...it was the happiest he’s been in years. Maybe ever, I don’t fucking know.”

He’s crying now, his head between his knees. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m just trying to explain why I’m so weird about you and this other guy. Call me crazy, call me a hopeless romantic, whatever. Part of me still believes that you and Jack are gonna get together again someday, because that’s just how it’s _supposed_ to be. For both of you. You, like, complete each other and shit.” Her voice is heavy and he realizes she’s crying, too, trying to hide it but too overwhelmed. “So I’m just scared you’re gonna go off with this other guy and fall in love or something and forget about all of that.”

“Don’t you understand?! I can’t forget about it, Lardo,” he practically yells, his chest heaving. “I can’t get his goddamn face out of my head, no matter what I do!”

“Eric,” she says, her voice sounding farther than ever. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he responds as he pulls back immediately, sniffling. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at…”

 _Jack. Myself. Caleb, but mostly myself_ for _Caleb._

“Look,” she starts, her voice suddenly even and clear again. “If this guy makes you happy, I’m not gonna stop you from dating him. I realize I just overstepped, like, a _lot_ , but at the end of the day I love you so much and I just want to see you happy again. Just because it still hurts doesn’t mean it should ruin everything else for you.”

Eric takes a deep breath in, wiping his face dry with the sleeve of his shirt. “Thank you. I’m sorry,” he repeats, not sure what came over him.

“It’s okay, Eric. I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to upset you like that, I was just trying to get us on the same page.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says, because he does. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I’m gonna go now, but keep me updated on this Caleb guy, okay?”

“I will. I promise,” he adds when he senses a warning.

“Okay. Love you,” she says, her tone practically begging for a forgiveness already earned.

“I love you, too, Lardo,” he says before hanging up the phone.

Eric’s beyond glad that he hadn’t told her about the sex. If that’s how she reacts when he even _mentions_ dating someone else, the idea of regularly giving himself over like that might just kill her. A part of him wishes he had, though, because surely she would have talked him out of it, and that’s all he would need to break things off. Because she’s right. Every single time his hands wrap themselves in Caleb’s sheets feels like a fucking betrayal, and a month later, he almost feels like he doesn’t know who he is anymore. Two months ago he never would’ve fought with someone like that, let alone Lardo, of all people. But he wasn’t a mean person, and he wasn’t a fighter, either. It’s like he doesn’t even know who Eric Bittle is anymore.

That’s another thing he’s noticed about himself. He’s felt more consistently agitated than ever in his life, even back when he was being bullied on a daily basis. Even back in college when all he did was watch YouTube videos about baking and isolated himself from the rest of the world. He’s a rubber band that’s slowly been pulled all the way across the country, worried that he might snap at any minute if the tension isn’t released.

 

* * *

 

“Will you just let me pay for myself?” Eric asks, laughing.

Caleb shakes his head. “Nope. This was my idea and I dragged you along, so the least I can do is pay.”

Eric shakes his head and takes a step back as Caleb approaches the shed, pulling out his wallet.

“Two, please” he says politely, handing over $20 and smiling at the cashier. Eric is standing next to him, now, not sure what he’s in for. The girl in the shed hands them both a ball and golf club, Eric’s much shorter than Caleb’s. He blushes slightly as he accepts it, but Caleb frowns.

“Excuse me,” he says to the girl. “Is that a kid’s club you just gave him? The handle matches the color of the ones on the wall.”

Her expression goes a little nervous. “Um, I guess so, yeah. I just thought it might be easier—”

“Well, my date is not a _kid_ , so is there any way you could give him an appropriately sized club?”

Eric is gaping, in complete shock at the sudden rudeness. “Caleb, it’s fine. Let it go.” It really is fine, the club is unfortunately the perfect height for him. Still, Caleb shakes his head and basically wrenches the club from his hand to trade with the girl.

“Much better,” he says, suddenly polite again. “Thank you.” He hands Eric the new club and briskly walks away in the direction of the course.

Eric blushes and quickly mutters “I’m so sorry,” to the girl before joining him.

“Was that really necessary?” he asks, trying not to sound as angry as he is.

Caleb shrugs as he drops his ball onto the turf. “I just thought it was really rude that she had to call attention to your height like that.”

Eric lets out a laugh, an indignant bark. “I’m pretty sure _you_ were the one who did that by making such a big fuss!”

Caleb simply shrugs again and swings his club, knocking the ball close to their first hole. “You’re a fully grown man, you don’t need to be walking around here with a kid’s club.”

“But now this one is too tall,” Eric grumbles. Caleb just waves a hand at him. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, desperately attempting to not let it ruin the rest of the night. He’s too mad to even care that Caleb had referred to Eric as his ‘date.’

 

Even despite his strange outburst in the beginning, Caleb ends up being a really fun time, and for the first time in weeks Eric remembers why he was drawn to him initially. His confidence that so delicately borders cockiness, the way every time Eric worries that he’s taking the score of the game too seriously he cracks some stupid joke and brings him back. When he comes up behind Eric and pretends to teach him how to swing a golf club, just for the sole reason of touching him.

By the time they’ve gone through 15 of the holes, Eric wonders why he was ever nervous about this. Something about the way Caleb laughed when Eric missed the hole from just a foot away or hit a ball into the waterfall warmed his lonely bones in the late October chill. He tries to give Eric his jacket again, just like the first night they had gone out together, but sober Eric refuses. Wonders why Jack had never given him _his_ jacket. Realizes all of his memories of Jack are warm and sunny.

He doesn’t mean for him to come up. In fact, he doesn’t even _bring_ him up, but when Eric hits a hole-in-one on their final hole, Caleb picks him up and swings him around in celebration. Eric squeals with laughter and says “Jack, put me down!” and lands hard on his feet before he can even realize.

“What did you just say?” Caleb asks, looking slightly dazed. Slightly mad.

Eric looks down. “Um. I was just kidding,” he says in a futile attempt to cover himself.

Caleb runs a hand through his hair, laughing. “Absolutely ridiculous,” he mutters to himself before walking to the final hole, leaving Eric stunned and standing alone.

He sighs and starts after him. “Caleb, can you please just hold on a second,” he pleads as Caleb walks right past hole 18 and back to the shed, practically throwing his club at the girl and storming off toward the entrance.

Eric does the same, trying to be polite as possible as he gives the club back and says a quick thank you before running after Caleb.

“Caleb, I’m _sorry_ ,” he says to Caleb’s back.

He suddenly turns around and Eric almost slams right into him.

“I fucking _like_ you, do you know that? Like, as a complex human person, and not just a goddamn warm body underneath me.”

Eric opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out. He closes it again so Caleb continues.

“I know I said that feelings had no place in whatever this is, and I’m breaking that stupid rule by telling you this, but I figured since you even said yes to coming with me that you felt the same way!”

Eric splutters for a second, trying to think of the right words to say.

“That rule was for both of us, so we could both avoid getting hurt. I knew you needed some time, and I knew I needed to _give_ you that time, but—fuck! I thought we’d be there by now! Eric, if you don’t like me like that, you should’ve just said no. Or, I don’t know, told me that you wanted to come but just as friends, or _something_!”

Eric fights tears because it isn’t often that someone yells at him like this. “It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just—”

“You’re still fucking stuck on this other guy,” Caleb growls, his volume suddenly much lower. “You told me about how he screwed you over, and still somehow you’d rather be back with him.”

“No, that’s not true” Eric insists. Lies. “It’s just…” He groans, throwing his hands up. “He’s the only person who’s ever been this way with me, so it was a weird reflex. I’m sorry, I really am. And I _do_ like you, which _is_ why I’m here in the first place, just like you said.”

Caleb’s face softens and he takes a small step forward, reaching for Eric’s hand.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he says quietly, pulling Eric into a hug. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But you can imagine how it must feel for me to go on a date with someone like you only to have you say your ex’s name instead of mine.” His tone has a slight edge to it, as if reminding Eric that this is actually the _second_ time it’s happened.

“Yeah, I get that,” Eric says. “I’m really sorry I put you in that position, it just sort of slipped and—”

He isn’t able to finish his apology because suddenly Caleb is kissing him, and for the first time there’s a warmth and a patience on his lips that Eric practically swallows. Their first kiss that hasn’t been just a precursor for another night of sex. A token of forgiveness and understanding. For a brief second he forgets they’re in public, then quickly pulls away and looks down at his feet.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as Caleb takes his hand.

“For what?”

Eric shrugs. “Just...this.” He gives Caleb’s hand a slight squeeze which earns him a lopsided smile.

 

Then for the first time that night, Eric has sex with Caleb. _Really_ has sex with _him_ ; not a single other person on his mind as Caleb’s hands are on his body. And with one rule out the window, they decide to hell with them all. Eric stays the night.

 

* * *

 

 

“So it went well, then?” Lardo asks, her voice hesitant.

He’s walking home from the bakery, only alone because he’d dropped an entire cake and had to clean it up. He decided that remaking it could wait for the morning, as he was just too tired to deal with it today. Really, it worked out because it would be much more fresh this way.

“It went great! We had a great time, and it was cool being able to see each other in a...different light,” he finishes, laughing slightly to himself. It’s been a week since his first real date with Caleb, and just like he promised, he’s keeping her updated. October had come and gone, just like that. Halloween was surprisingly a highlight for Eric, especially now that him and Caleb were more of a couple. They did a joint costume and went to a club dressed as Batman and Robin, which had always been something of a fantasy for Eric, he realized.

“You mean like not just at work?” Lardo continues.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Isn’t it gonna be weird living in the same building?”

Eric pauses, trying to think of the best answer for that. “Maybe! I guess we’ll have to see.”

She hums, and he can tell she’s still not fully on board but at least she doesn’t argue.

“So, I know this is a little far in advance, but…”

Eric’s ears perk up. _In advance of what?_ “But?”

“We’re having a giant birthday party for Shitty in December. The fifteenth, specifically, it's a Friday night. And it's a _surprise party_ , I feel it’s very important that I mention that, because word almost got back to him already and I’ve _literally_ only just started planning it.”

Eric laughs at her exasperation, then realizes he’s in fucking California. “Oh. So, are you…”

“Inviting you? Yes, that would be what I’m doing. Surprise!”

He laughs again. “Well I appreciate it as a formality, and I really wish I could, but—”

“Wait, why does this sound like a no?”

Eric sighs. “Lardo, do you know how expensive it is to fly anywhere? And to have to take time away from the bakery? I just… You know I would love to be there, I just don’t think it’s possible.”

She’s quiet for a second. “What if I told you someone already paid for your flight home? And back?”

Eric gasps, then frowns and shakes his head. “Hold on a minute. Now, I don’t want to be ungrateful, but Lardo, you always talk about how broke you are! I can’t have you paying to fly me across the damn country!”

Another pause. “It’s not me, Bits.”

His frown deepens. The only other person crazy enough to do that was Shitty, who was paying for law school and also didn’t even know the party was happening.

“What? Lardo, I don’t…”

It hits him. Oh lord, it hits him, and he almost has to sit down on the sidewalk.

“You’re serious?” he manages to croak out.

“Yes, he insisted.”

Eric’s jaw is hanging open slightly, his head spinning. “And you already accepted? Why didn’t you say no?”

“Well, excuse me for saying so, but if someone offers to fly one of my best friends in the world back across the country, I’m just gonna have a really hard time passing it up.”

He can practically _hear_ the fond smile on her face as he runs a hand through his hair.

“So that means…”

_He’ll be there._

“Look,” she starts, a little more serious, “if it really is a problem for you, I swear on my life I won’t be mad. I get that things are already getting pretty serious with the bakery and...Caleb, and whatever. I really do. But I figured if I gave you a month and a half in advance and all of your travel expenses were covered…”

“Yeah,” he breathes. It’s not a yes to going, it’s just so she knows he understands. “I’m, um, I’m gonna have to think about it, okay? Not that I don’t want to see you,” he adds quickly. “I want that more than anything right now, if I’m honest. And of course I miss Shitty too, and everybody else—I assume Rans and Holster will at least be there?”

“Yep! Frogs, too! Not sure how well you remember them because we were all trashed the entire week.”

Oh no, he remembers. Nursey, Dex, Chowder. It was one of the best summers of his life, he wouldn’t soon forget any facet of it.

“It’s just _knowing_ that he’ll be there…”

“No, I totally get it. But,” she says, hesitant again, before she betrays herself: “in a month and a half you might be in deep with this other guy and then Jack won’t matter anymore, and even if that’s not the case, that’s plenty of time to prepare yourself to see him. Not that I think you should, like, _obsess_ over it or anything, but at least you’ll know ahead of time and you won’t be shocked or anything, and if you— ”

“Okay, okay,” he says, laughing now. She did have a good point. But still, the knowledge that this was only possible because Jack was paying for him made his mouth dry. Jack doesn’t just throw his money around, he drives a truck called the fucking trash-mobile, for heaven’s sake. Of course Eric knows he _has_ it; he’s met Jack’s parents, seen one of who knows how many homes they own. In the grand scheme of things, one cross country flight (well, two, if you count coming back, which he’s secretly afraid he won’t do if he decides to take the journey) isn’t a whole lot of money. Or a big deal in any aspect, really. Maybe he was just _making_ it a big deal because that’s what his brain does. But…

_“He asked about you…”_

Jack had always been so hard to read, even once they started telling each other everything. Of course, back then Eric was operating under the assumption that his crush was unrequited and even once confirmed to be mutual, thought it was too good to be true. Now, knowing that at one point Jack cared about him so much that it nearly broke him… It just makes him wonder how much of that—if any—has faded with the time and distance.

“So you’ll think about it?” Lardo asks hopefully.

“Yes, I’ll definitely think about it.”

“But not too much,” she qualifies.

“I won’t! _I won’t_ , _”_ he repeats when she lets out a comically high pitched whine of apprehension.

“Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have plans tonight?”

He thinks for a second. It’s a Tuesday night, which means...no, of course not, because when does he ever?

“None that I can think of!”

“Okay so you’re gonna video chat with me so I can draw your face. Birthday present for Shitty,” she explains before he can ask.

“His birthday present is a portrait of me?”

She scoffs. “Please don’t be ridiculous, it’s not _just_ you. I’m doing the whole house! Well, the summer residents, at least,” she grumbles.

He thinks about how much time she’s been forced to spend alone, even if her boyfriend is living with her. It must be so frustrating, maybe even more than Eric can imagine, for him to always be just out of reach.

“Yes,” he says cryptically.

“Awesome! What time works for you?”

He laughs. “No, I mean _yes_ , I’m coming home for the party, damn it!”

She stutters for a second, trying to babble out a response. “You fuckin’ with me, Eric Bittle?”

“No, I’ve already made up my mind.”

It’s so odd sometimes how the right decision passes right in front of your heart like an eclipse.

“I swear, I’m gonna have heart problems because of you.”

 

* * *

 

The next month is one of a constant moving forward. Word gets out about the bakery’s propensity for catering events and Eric finds himself in the kitchen every Sunday, baking until his arms are sore and his fingers stiff. Maggie starts to hint that bringing in another staff member or two might be in their best interest, but Eric really doesn’t know when he’ll find the time to do any kind of interviewing. Now that they’re actually doing well, it couldn’t simply be a matter of sitting down and talking to the person for five minutes (though that has worked out in Caleb’s case). Maggie volunteers to do it herself, but the bakery is like Eric’s child and he can’t have someone else screening the babysitters. He’s not ready to relinquish that much control. Besides, Caleb has only become more and more invested in his job, now that him and Eric are—

Well, Eric’s not really sure _what_ they are, if he’s honest. He’s surprised to find himself pleased that the sex has slowed down considerably. When it does happen, the energy has changed to one that’s more intimate and tender, as opposed to the rough passion that started them.

He still hasn’t told Caleb about leaving. He’s not sure how he’ll react, and he’s a little bit nervous about it. Maggie knows, of course, because the plan is that Eric will make as many longer-lasting treats as he can on that Friday night so the bakery can still open on Saturday, which is when he has to catch his flight. Of course they're always closed on Sunday, so that poses no problem, and then he’ll be back by the following Monday. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but Eric has discovered that every so often, Caleb has little bouts of irrational anger that crop up out of nowhere. The night at the mini golf course should’ve been enough of a sign for that, but Eric hadn’t thought much of it until it happened again a few times. Once when Eric was late meeting Caleb because he lost track of time in the grocery store. Another when he accidentally knocked Caleb’s guitar over. Even one time when he told Caleb he was too tired for sex.

Of course, Caleb always reigned himself in before things got anywhere close to out of control. He always made it up to Eric and apologized, kissing him so sweetly. Buying him a fancy bottle of wine. He even revealed that he wrote Eric a song after a particularly bad night when Eric asked him if he was drunk when he came home (which, for the record, he _was_ , but he still refuses to admit it). Still, Eric realizes that he’s stepping into more and more unfamiliar territory with every passing day, never really certain that he has Caleb figured out. The terrain is gradually becoming more delicate and he finds that his ankles are sore from all the time spent walking on tiptoes. But those moments Caleb sweeps him off his feet almost make him forget he has them altogether.

It takes him more time than it should to work up the courage to tell him, but he knows that if he waits too long his problems might multiply. It’s now just a week before he has to leave, the beginnings of December already raking their chilly fingers across his face as they walk home from the bakery together. Not nearly as icy as the Northeast winters he had grown accustomed to, but enough to make him bundle up and walk a little quicker. One hand is shoved in a pocket, the other in Caleb’s firm, warm grasp.

“You seem quiet today,” Caleb points out. It’s a test, Eric knows.

He just shrugs in return. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what? You know you can tell me anything,” Caleb says, maybe a little too sweetly.

“Well,” Eric starts, realizing that now is the best time to just get it all out. At the very least, they’re in public so Caleb might avoid blowing up. “I actually have a trip planned for next weekend.”

Caleb gasps and smiles. Not at all the reaction Eric expected. “What kind of trip? Where are we going? Oh my god I _love_ travelling!”

_Shit._

“Um, so the thing is… It’s not for both of us.”

Caleb’s joy smashes to the ground, shattering in the cold air. “Oh. Alright.” He removes his hand from Eric’s and puts it in his own pocket.

Eric sighs. “I’m just going back home for a couple days. It’s Shitty’s birthday and Lardo planned this huge surprise party.”

“Sounds nice,” Caleb responds cooly.

“Are you seriously mad about this?” Eric asks, not actually all that surprised.

Caleb shrugs. Then tenses. “Hold on. Is _he_ gonna be there? Jack?”

“Why would it matter if he is? When was the last time I even brought him up?”

Caleb bites his lip, thinking about it. “Last week. We were talking about our first times.”

“And who was the one who initiated that conversation?”

“Look, I don’t need you to be a dick right now, okay?”

Eric smiles to himself, _just_ slightly. “To answer your question, no, he won’t be there. Apparently he’s busy with something,” he lies, keeping it vague because he’d only just now decided to hide that part of it from Caleb. Besides, if he really was over Jack, then he wouldn’t know why he fake couldn’t come anyway, right?

“Alright, fine. You can go, I won’t stop you,” Caleb says, grabbing Eric’s hand once again.

He cringes, because it was only half a joke. Regardless, he feels infinitely better now that Caleb knows and took it better than he had in all of the scenarios in Eric’s head. He lets out a little cry of surprise when Caleb carefully swings him around and presses him up against a wall, pressing a quick kiss on Eric’s soft, warm lips before playfully running ahead, urging Eric to come after him.

Eric really likes being with Caleb, but he can’t fight the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. It’s telling him that running away isn’t the solution. But then again, he’s currently in complete and blissful denial that there’s anything to run away from in the first place.


	6. you flew right by, love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by: [Paper Hearts by Tori Kelly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NO8zDm437Ls)

Eric wraps his coat tighter around his body, wishing he had one heavier. The mid-December air chills his blood as a gust of wind blows past. He shivers and tries to stop his teeth from knocking together. His nose is starting to run from the cold.

Lardo isn’t late, technically. The flight had just been a little shorter than Eric expected, and by noon he’s already sitting outside the airport waiting for her. It’s only been five minutes, but his body had forgotten just how biting the winters could be in the Northeast. It’s even snowing a little bit; not enough to stick on the ground, but the drifting flakes still makes the world feel muted and gray. Another involuntary spasm shoots through his body as the wind picks up again and he considers going back inside and waiting there, but at this point she’ll be there at any second and he just wants to go home.

_Home…_

Eric’s not sure if he knows what that really means anymore. Shouldn’t he consider his home to be in San Francisco at the bakery? After all, there’s a somewhat haunting feeling of permanence there that he can’t seem to outrun, even after coming all the way back to Boston. His parents’ house in Georgia might also be another contender for “home,” if it hadn’t been for the events of the previous summer. No, he realizes that when he thinks of the word home, he can’t help but think back to sleeping on a carpet, and walking to work in the early morning glow, or curling up in a sunlit reading nook. Feeling so wanted and loved and accepted, having real friends for the first time in his life. Laughter, _real_ , from-the-gut laughter that would leave him doubled over and in tears. Blankets and tight hugs and backyard picnics. The beginnings of first love.

A familiar car pulls up to the curb and Eric feels his frigid body light on fire. As he stands and grabs his suitcase from under the bench he had been sitting on, he hears a door quickly open and slam shut, followed by running footsteps.

He hardly has time to look up again before Lardo’s body slams into his, her arms around his neck, and she’s still warm from being in the car and she smells like men’s deodorant and paint and it takes everything Eric has not to break down on the spot. He returns the fervent hug, not saying anything at first. He just greedily absorbs the fact that Lardo is hugging him, really hugging him, and suddenly he feels a whole year younger and his head is clear and everything makes sense again.

_Oh, right. Home._

 

His heart and head feel infinitely lighter than they have in weeks by the time they pull up to the familiar white house on the corner. A high tide of nostalgia swells within him, tinted gray by the overcast sky and specks of snow dancing through the air. It’s the house like he hasn’t seen it before: bleak, bare, like an echo of something in the past. It’s familiar, this echoing of cold back to warmth, but Eric shakes the eerie feeling and steps out of the car, standing in front of the house and just looking up at it for a second.

“You miss it?” Lardo asks quietly, suddenly right beside him.

“So much,” he admits.

She just nods and wraps an arm around his waist, nestling into his body. Like two gears made to work together, the fit is just right. Eric’s heart shatters every time he remembers how alone she’s been since everybody parted ways at the end of the summer. He returns the side hug, his cheek resting on top of her knitted hat as they stand amongst the flurries.

“Okay,” she announces, “emo time is over, it’s cold as _shit_ out here!”

Eric laughs as she separates from him, bounding toward the house. He quickly retrieves his bag from the backseat where he’d stashed it and follows after her, remembering the first time he climbed these stairs. Not even a year ago he’d still been so unsure of himself, and now… Well, he _thought_ that that had changed, but now Eric’s reminded that the last time he felt truly sure of himself, it resulted in his heart trampled on the floor.

Even inside the house has a whole different feel. Things are neat and clean, though whether this is for the party or just because it’s lacking in residents is initially unclear to him. The entire first floor has entered the first phase of decoration; there are a few streamers hanging around, balloons hugging the ceiling. Eric looks around, noticing that there are suddenly picture frames everywhere. He approaches a shelf full of them, grinning as he sees memories from the summer and some pictures he doesn’t recognize. A few that must be from the gang’s days back in school, back before they were even a dream in Eric’s head. It’s clear that everyone has aged since then, not alarmingly so, but enough to make him look twice.

He’s in more of them than he would’ve thought. One from the Fourth of July when the frogs had come to visit. A selfie that Shitty took without warning Eric that actually turned out nicely. The gang at Holly’s. Oh lord, _the bakery_. Eric feels like he’s short circuiting for a second, remembering that Holly is just a short walk away. They’d spoken just a few days prior to plan Eric’s visit; he’s going to help her bake some things for the party as soon as he’s settled in. Suddenly that feels like a priority.

He’s about to abandon the shelf of pictures when one more catches his eye. Lardo must have taken it because Jack, Eric, and Shitty are all in it, sitting on a big ugly blanket in the backyard. Shitty’s eyes are wide and gleeful, he’s in the middle of telling a story. Jack is laughing gently, his eyes crinkled and his hair a little messy. And Eric… Eric is staring at Jack, smiling so tenderly. Jack is leaning back, his hand on top of Eric’s in the grass. He catches his breath as he reaches out to touch the picture, as if pressing his fingertips to the glass might bring that feeling back, even for a brief second.

He realizes with a start that Lardo is next to him now and he pulls his hand away, embarrassed.

“Are these here for Shitty’s party?” he asks, trying to quickly deflect.

Lardo shakes her head. “Most of them were already there, but I did add a few yesterday. I just...missed everybody, and I found all of these pictures and had some frames lying around, so…” she trails off.

Eric just nods. “It’s a nice touch,” he murmurs, his eyes still on his own face.

“I already took your bag upstairs, hope you don’t mind,” Lardo says after another minute of quiet. “I put you back in your old room. Figured that was the best place, yeah?”

He smiles and nods. “That’s perfect. I’m just gonna go up for a quick second.”

 

It’s sad how barren it is, completely void of the life Eric had pasted onto the walls. Another surge of memories comes rushing back. The way the sun came through the window in the mornings. Late nights researching recipes. Tears, _so many_ _tears_ that suddenly threaten to make a reprise as Eric remembers kissing Jack for the first time. Right after the moment that’s been tiptoeing around the edge of his mind, slipping into his dreams and making him cry out in his sleep. He can still feel Kent’s hands all over him, still remember feeling less than human as he was punched and pinned against the wall of his own room, a place that had always felt so safe before. The smell of alcohol on Kent’s breath as he threatened to...

Eric sits down on the bed as he steadies his breathing, pushing the memory back as far as it will go. It wasn’t until he moved to San Francisco that he realized just how lucky he had been that Jack showed up when he did, and it makes his skin crawl to think what would’ve happened if he was even a minute later. It makes sense, now, why Jack had been so angry when Eric had so casually let Kent into their home. He kicks himself for it almost every day, now, wishing he could go back and realize just what Kent had done to him so he could have the satisfaction of turning him away.

It takes a minute before the room stops rushing around him, the naked walls finally coming to rest in their respective places. Eric gets to his feet, hands still trembling. He sucks in lonely air and remembers his next destination and the comfort that awaits him there. That’s enough motivation to go back downstairs.

“Everything okay? You were up there for longer than I thought you’d be,” Lardo says, not bothering to mask the concern in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. It’s just weird to be back is all.”

She nods and pulls him into a hug. “I know kiddo. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he says into her shoulder. He pulls away and smiles weakly. “I’m gonna head to the bakery now.”

“Cool, let me give you a ride!”

He pauses and considers it, then shakes his head.

“What do you mean? It’s, like, twenty fucking degrees outside?”

“I sorta miss the walk,” he says, laughing gently. “Plus, I think I need to clear my head a bit.”

She purses her lips but nods. “Okay, fine. But we’re gonna have a talk later, you and me. I have a feeling you have a lot to update me on.”

 _You have no idea._ They’d spoken almost exclusively about the party on the drive home, and it’s eating at Eric’s nerves a little bit that he still hasn’t voiced any of his concerns to her. And there are quite a few of those.

“Text me if you need me to pick anything up on the way home. Holly’s gonna drive me back so I don’t have to carry everything.”

“Try not to take long, okay? I know you love the bakery but…”

“Yeah,” he responds. He wants to spend as much time with her as possible, too. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time!”

She gives him a skeptical look but sighs and pats him on the shoulder. “I’m putting you on contact duty, by the way. I forget if I mentioned that. I’ll text you when we’re close, and then it’s your job to get everybody to hide and turn off the lights and shit.”

Eric nods. “I accept my mission,” he says with mock sincerity.

“It’s your literal _only_ job, so if you screw it up…”

They both burst into laughter.

“Alright, you better get going. The sooner you finish up there, the sooner you can get your little ass back here.”

“I’ll have you know that my ass has gotten at least a little bit bigger since the summer, thank you very much,” Eric says as he heads for the door, moving his hips a little extra as he goes. He’s been doing his squats, and that shouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Damn, I think you’re right!” is the last thing he hears before he closes the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

He half regrets not accepting Lardo’s offer by the time he nears the bakery, his body slightly aching from the amount of shivering he’s done. He’d cried for a minute about halfway in but quickly pulled himself together. If anything, he didn’t want to deal with the frozen droplets clinging to his face. Something about seeing such a familiar world grayed over had hit him with more force than he’d anticipated. Though there actually _is_ a sort of muted beauty in the white flakes against the monotone background, coupled with the deep blue of his coat.

He pulls the key out of his pocket—the key that he still turns over and over in his fingers some nights, wishing he could use it—and slides it into the lock. There’s a sign in the window that says “Closed for today, sorry for the inconvenience!” and lists the extended hours for the following day. Eric braces himself as the door swings open and nearly cries again as a familiar scent hits him.

The bakery feels like a bubble frozen in time. Not a thing about it has changed, except for how empty it is.

“Holly?” he calls, not seeing her anywhere.

There’s a clattering from back in the kitchen; then, the sound of something hitting the floor. It’s one he’s more familiar with than he probably should be. A soft yelp follows, then the sound of a bowl being placed back on a counter.

Eric laughs as Holly emerges from the kitchen, wiping a hand across her forehead and leaning against the doorframe.

“Eric Bittle, you scared the absolute crud out of me,” she says, taking a deep breath.

“Sorry Holly, I thought you might have heard me comin’ in,” he responds.

She laughs and shakes her head. “Was too focused on the pastries I’m working on! Well, you just gonna stand there? I’m not gonna hug myself!”

He practically runs behind the counter and throws himself into her outstretched arms, feeling giddy and warm.

“Good lord, you’re just frozen solid, aren’t you?” Holly asks as he pulls away. “Come back into the kitchen, I’ll whip you up some cocoa and we can chat a spell.”

Eric nods. “I can’t stay as long as I’d like to,” he admits. She waves a hand at him.

“I know, I know. Lardo stopped by yesterday to put in her order and practically begged me not to keep you. That poor girl’s going a little stir crazy, it seems. So don’t you worry, we’ll have you in and out.”

“How much is there to bake?”

She hums. “Quite a bit, really. But Eric, it’s _us_. Nothing we can’t handle!”

He laughs and follows her back into the kitchen.

Just the sight of it is enough to bring a smile to his face, even in its current state of disaster. He’d never known Holly to be such a messy baker. She notices his eyes scanning the counters, noting the mostly-empty bowls and used spoons sitting around. A mixer is turning lazily in the corner.

Holly sighs. “It’s been a _day_ , Eric,” she says with a slight grin. “So what I’m gonna do is start cleaning up this mess while you talk, and then we can get started on all the cookies Lardo requested.”

Eric hops up onto a stool, his feet dangling an inch off the floor. “What exactly did you want to talk about?”

She turns around and frowns, a spatula in her hand covered in batter. “Eric Bittle, you’ve been all the way across the country running a bakery for four months.”

He laughs. “But we talk at least a couple times a week!”

She waves a hand impatiently. “It’s not the same, that’s just the basics of things. I need the details, honey. Any drama? Anything specific you want advice on before going back?”

He hums, thinking, then suddenly he can’t stop talking. He tells her about some of their regular customers and their various quirks, about the wedding they had catered and the other catering orders he’d been attending to (she huffs and shakes her head, muttering something about how she “could never!”), and even recounts the interaction with the man from the nearby coffee shop. Once she stops laughing, Holly wipes her eyes and pats him on the shoulder.

“Already puttin’ people out of business, that’s what I like to see!”

He grins and laughs through his nose. “I wasn’t _trying_ to, someone just requested a coffee maker and things sort of snowballed from there.”

She chuckles again, wiping a large bowl dry. He bites his lip, considering switching the topic and letting her know that things are starting to feel just a bit overwhelming now that he’s settled into a busy schedule out West. _No_ , he thinks _, after this trip home I’ll be fine and refreshed._

Before he can make a decision, though, she’s placing a few bowls on the counter and gathering ingredients. “Could you just grab a sack of flour, darlin’? There’s one that’s already opened, we’ll probably end up finishing it off I imagine…”

He heaves it over next to them, grateful it isn’t completely full.

“So how is that employee of yours doing? (Hand me that hand mixer, could ya?)” Holly asks. Eric tries to hide the blush in his cheeks but luckily she’s preoccupied with sorting measuring cups.

He fights to keep his voice casual. “Oh, you know, he’s doing a good job. Doesn’t really bake so he isn’t much help in the kitchen, but he’s great with the customers and all.”

She nods. “Mmhmm, that’s what Mags tells me.”

Eric gulps as they make eye contact. She takes the mixer from his hands and smiles cheerfully.

“What else has she told you?” Eric asks cautiously, hoping the guilt he’s feeling isn’t coming through in his voice.

“Not much else,” she says, her voice a little bit too casual for Eric’s liking. “She couldn’t really tell if y’all were actually dating or if it was more just a...physical thing.”

His heart stops and he drops the sugar he had been carrying to the counter. Flustered, he picks up the container.

“Holly, I—”

“Did you really expect I wouldn’t find out?” she asks, her voice still gentle. He’s desperately searching her tone to see how she feels, but he can’t quite decipher.

“It’s not that, it’s just— ”

“And of course it’s technically _your_ bakery and you can run it however you like, but if it were me I might think twice about getting involved with my only employee.”

He feels like the life is draining out of him. “Holly… Are you mad?”

She looks up from where she had been measuring out flour. “No, not mad. Wary, yes. Slightly disappointed, maybe. But not mad, honey.”

Somehow, that feels worse.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, I-I mean I didn’t hire him just _because_ —I mean, I was against him even coming on at the beginning, you can ask Maggie!” he splutters, trying to defend himself.

She glances at him sideways. “So y’all _are_ an item, then?”

“We…” Eric stops. He’s not really sure how to answer that question. “We’re something, I guess. It’s not anything really serious, if you really wanted, I could break things off—” he starts, the wheels in his mind suddenly turning.

“Eric, sweetheart, I’m not your mother. You’re a grown man. And to just end things like that wouldn’t really be fair to him, would it?”

“Well, no, I suppose not,” he responds, feeling heavy.

“You seem awful quick to drop him,” Holly points out as she sifts the flour.

“Well,” Eric says, trying to cover his tracks. “I’ve already thought about what it might mean for the bakery and what people might think. And Maggie also had a little talk with me about it.”

“So she mentioned,” Holly mutters.

Eric feels like the walls are closing in on him, the spoon in his hand suddenly a foreign object. His throat hurts from the effort he’s supplying to prevent the tears that are now forming. This kitchen was always such a place of joy and freedom, and suddenly he feels like he’s betrayed that.

“Holly,” he croaks, “I’m _sorry_.”

She turns to him suddenly, her face suddenly much softer and full of worry.

“Oh, Lord, honey, no,” she says as she puts down her bowl and pulls him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Eric, I didn’t realize this was such a big deal.”

He doesn’t say anything, just cries into her shoulder for a minute.

“ _Honey_ ,” she says, pulling away. “What’s going on?”

He shakes his head. How the hell are you supposed to say _I might be afraid of my boyfriend?_ He desperately wants to tell her, she’s right in front of him and all he has to do is tell her everything and have his concerns validated, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“It’s just weird being with someone else, since…” he half-lies, trailing off. “And being back here makes it feel even worse.” That part’s true, at least.

“I understand, sweetheart. Oh, I’m so sorry I gave you an attitude,” she says, pouting in sympathy.

He sniffles and nods. “S’okay, I understand. It’s just real lonely out there, you know?” he says, trying to justify his actions—if not to Holly, then at least to himself.

She pauses. Smooths his hair. “Are you sure you’re alright out there? I know I said you’re a grown man, and you lived on your own during school and everything but...You know, I just worry about you.”

Eric lets out a watery laugh. “I swear, you and my mama are just the same.”

Holly smiles gently. “Well if you don’t mind me sayin’, I do sort of see you as the son I never got to have.”

He hugs her again, trying to fight a fresh wave of tears. He isn’t really sure what to say to that, but the word _home_ pops into his mind once again.

“Listen, sugar. If this other boy makes you happy, I don’t wanna be the one to stop you from that. But I also want to warn you that...well, Eric, he’s a real person, you know?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, but he knows exactly what she’s hinting at.

Holly sighs, trying to find the words. “I’m not saying this is what’s happening, I would ever want to accuse you of anything because I’m sure your intentions are good, and you’re _such_ a good person, honey, you really are—”

“You’re worried that I’m using him,” he says quickly, feeling guilty once again.

“I mean, I wouldn’t necessarily say that, and maybe not intentionally, but—”

“Holly, you don’t have to sugarcoat it for me,” he says, smiling slightly at his unintentional humor. “I get it. And I’ve thought about that too. I...I don’t really know what he means to me just yet. To be completely honest,” Eric starts, figuring it might as well all come out while they’re being candid, “it did start as just, um, a physical thing…”

Holly blinks and nods. “But I guess things developed from there?”

“Well, yeah. At first I sort of resisted it because of...because of Jack,” Eric says, his heart thumping obnoxiously in his chest. “And at first I think that _is_ what I was doing, honestly. But that’s how it started; we were _both_ sort of using each other, and then something else sort of started to happen, obviously, and...yeah…”

Holly frowns. “Something feels a little off about this story,” she tests, but Eric shrugs. “Does this man treat you well, Eric? I know it’s, uh, hard to compare to Jack in that department, but Jack isn’t exactly an anomaly. There are plenty of good men out there.”

Eric opens his mouth and closes it. “He’s very sweet, Holly. A little overprotective sometimes, maybe. And he’s got a bit of a short temper. But he’s a musician, and he’s got a real soft side to him. He wrote a song for me a little while back.”

She raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Clearly, his hesitation had registered with her.

“Alright,” she says slowly. “As long as you don’t have any real worries about things…”

His chest incredibly tight, he shakes his head. His mouth is beyond dry. “None at all!”

Holly looks at him for another moment then exhales, turning back to the counter. “Good lord, we still have so much to do.”

 

* * *

 

Less than two hours later, Eric is in the passenger’s seat of Holly’s car, containers of baked goods stacked carefully in the seats behind them. Both are silent, completely talked out. Eric had gone into a little bit more detail about the goings on in the bakery out West, and then he’d pressed Holly for information about things back home. She’d told him that people ask about him almost every day, much to his surprise, and updated him on the new employees and how they were doing.

They pull up to the house and feels his chest tighten again, knowing he might not be seeing Holly again for a while. She was, of course, invited, but said that she would have to do some extra time at the bakery that night in order to make up for the lost time of that day. She halfheartedly tells Eric that she might try to stop by later as they bring the last of the containers into yet another familiar kitchen.

He hugs her extra tight before she leaves, just in case.

“Now listen, Eric. You call me if you need help with anything. Remember how bad things got last summer when you refused to ask anybody for help?”

He nods, cringing at the thought of just how miserable he had been.

“So if you feel like everything gets to be too much, _please_ just tell me. I won’t be upset, I really, truly just want what’s best for you.”

He nods weakly, already feeling his stomach start to twist into knots. He hasn’t lied to her, really, but he’s _definitely_ left out some details that might concern her. Whatever the case is, now isn’t the time to get into it, so he hugs her one more time and she sees herself out.

Eric slumps onto the couch in the living room, trying to control his body. His head hurts and his stomach hasn’t stopped contorting itself into strange shapes. He takes a few deep breaths and centers himself, thinking about the night ahead of him. He’ll get to see his friends, he’ll get to see Shitty and spend lots of time with Lardo. After a few minutes, even the thought of coming face to face with Jack only affects him very mildly, so he stands up and goes into the kitchen to see if he can start to organize the many boxes of cookies that inhabit the counters.

As he enters the kitchen, he hears laughter from upstairs and his heart stops. He creeps out of the kitchen and up the first few stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. His worries melt immediately when he hears Lardo’s voice.

“Are you sure this is okay? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking the air mattress instead, or even the couch downstairs.”

And then another voice, also familiar.

“Lards, _relax_ , dude. The air mattress is perfectly fine, as it always has been!” _Holster_.

Eric takes the remaining stairs two at a time, bursting into Shitty’s room to see Ransom already inflating the mattress and Lardo and Holster standing next to him. All three of them turn immediately to the door as Eric slides in, almost falling over.

“Oh fuck, it’s Eric Bittle! I love that guy!” Ransom shouts from the floor as Holster crosses the room, wrapping Eric in a bone-crushing hug. Eric laughs—he can’t really help it, the air is being forced out of his lungs anyway—and Holster puts him down.

“Good to see you, too, Holster,” Eric says as Ransom hugs him too, this one not as tight but just as warm. “And you, Ransom!”

“You’re back sooner than I thought you would be,” Lardo says, frowning slightly. “There weren’t any problems right? If all the cookies aren’t there it’s not a huge issue, we could always—”

Eric holds up a hand, cutting her off. “Everything’s there, I promise. Holly and I work fast, you know that!”

Lardo exhales, running a hand through her hair. “I know, I just...want everything to be perfect.”

Holster raises an eyebrow as Ransom goes back to the mattress.

“Since when were you such a perfectionist?” Holster asks, laughing slightly.

“I am _not_ ,” she says defensively. “But this is for Shitty and I love him so it would be great if everything just went the way I planned it, okay?”

Ransom clears his throat. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

Lardo’s face goes red. “Um, I said I want things to go as planned?” She looks to Eric for help, but he just shrugs, his eyes a little wide.

“No, you most definitely said that you are madly in love with Shitty,” Ransom says, standing again.

Holster sighs. “Rans, we been knew. This isn’t exactly super new info.”

“But she said it _out loud_!” he says, grinning.

“Fucking hell,” she mutters, her hands covering her face as she leaves the room. Eric notices that behind her hands, she’s smiling. “I need help decorating, so your asses better be downstairs _pronto_!” comes her voice from the stairs.

“Honestly, I’ve _never_ seen her like this,” Holster says, a little bit of awe in his voice.

Ransom laughs. “We have to get her trashed tonight. She deserves it after putting all of this together on her own, especially without Shitty finding out.”

“You think he really has no idea?” Eric asks as they exit the bedroom.

Holster nods. “We would know if she thought he knew. And it would be an absolute disaster,” he adds.

Eric chuckles, nodding. Lardo is waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, rolls of streamers in her hands.

“We can catch up later, gents. Right now, our goal is to put the circus to shame. If this place doesn’t look like an airplane carrying a party supply store hit our house, it will be considered a total failure. Understood?”

They look at each other, then back at her.

“Yes ma’am!” says Eric, grabbing a few rolls and getting to work.

 

In twenty minutes, the whole house is dripping with color and Eric is out of breath from all of the reaching upwards. Admittedly, Lardo and him had left a lot of the work for the other two, just because it was much easier for them to reach the ceiling. Lardo then tasked Ransom and Holster with doing a last sweep of the first floor to ensure everything is clean, and also making sure anything valuable is put away.

“Are you expecting this party to turn into a banger?” Holster calls from the other room as Lardo and Eric start to organize the cookies. Lardo decided that a traditional birthday cake would be a little boring, so there are a collection of cookies that each have a frosted letter on them that spell “Happy Birthday Shitty!”

“It better not, I don’t think I’m emotionally prepared for that!” she calls back. Eric giggles as he adds a D-A-Y to the large tray where they’re arranging the cookies.

“So, mister. I think you have some things to tell me?”

He groans, adding S-H-I and stepping back to admire their work as she finishes. “Yes, I do.”

She frowns. “Is that an issue? I thought you would want to talk about this boy you’re with.”

He pauses, then nods. “Yeah, I do. It’s just weird thinking about him. Here.”

“I get that,” she responds, patting his shoulder. “Just tell me what you’re comfortable with! I hardly know anything about him! Hell, I don’t even know what he looks like,” she mutters. “He’s real, right?”

Eric laughs, pulling out his phone. “Yes, he’s real. Here.” He hands the phone to her, a picture of Caleb kissing him on the cheek pulled up.

“Oh! He’s, uh, he’s really cute!” she says, something weird in her voice. “What’s he like?”

“Well, he’s…” For some reason, the words don’t want to leave Eric’s mouth. Lardo scrolls through more pictures, her expression unchanging. “He’s a musician, so he’s sort of free-spirited. He’s got a really nice voice. He, uh… He wrote me a song.” Her eyebrow quirks at that but she says nothing. He continues. “He’s really good with people, something I wouldn’t have guessed at first. Uh, he doesn’t actually bake much. I know, it took me a little while to get past it, too. He’s a big fan of horror movies,” Eric says, suddenly spouting off stupid little facts. “He loves chocolate but hates chocolate ice cream for some reason, he has three younger siblings, he’s from Washington, he played lacrosse when he was in high school, he—”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

Eric splutters for a second, confused. “Which part? I said a lot of things just now.”

“He plays _lacrosse_?”

“I mean, yeah, in fact that’s what he initially wanted to do in college I think, too, but then—”

Lardo hands him the phone, her face white. “I can’t believe you’re dating a fucking _LAX bro_ , Bits…”

“What’s so bad about that?”

She turns to face him, shaking her head. “They’re just bad news.”

“Well, he doesn’t play anymore!” Eric says, suddenly feeling defensive.

“Doesn’t matter. Once a LAX bro, always a LAX bro.”

“Who the fuck is a LAX bro?” Ransom asks, walking into the kitchen.

Eric sighs. “The guy I’m dating.”

Ransom trips and almost falls directly onto his face. “I’m sorry, you’re dating a fucking _LAX bro_?”

Eric throws up his hands. “Y’all, is this really such a big deal?!”

Ransom nods solemnly, leaning against a counter. “Never met one that wasn’t a complete and utter slimeball.”

“Caleb is _not_ a slimeball, and he doesn’t even play the damn sport anymore,” he says, exasperated.

Ransom raises an eyebrow. “Wait a minute, you’re dating someone?”

“Yes!” Eric says, a little louder than he’d meant to. “Yes, I am, in fact, dating someone.”

Ransom nods, looking at Lardo. They exchange a weird look.

“Is there something y’all aren’t telling me?” Eric asks, feeling left out.

“No, Bits. Really!” she adds when he opens his mouth to argue.

He sighs, scowling as he starts to arrange more cookies around the lettered ones. “I was _hoping_ you would be happy for me.”

Lardo shoos Ransom out of the room. “Of course I’m happy for you, Eric. I’m just...worried. Stupid LAX bro thing aside, you promise this guy isn’t an asshole, right?”

He bites his lip, taking a second to think about that one. He can’t prove them right now by talking about all of Caleb’s qualities that aren’t as great. “Yes, I promise! Do you really think I would willingly date someone who’s a dick to me?” He almost winces, but decides to change the topic slightly. “This isn’t still about Jack, is it?” he asks, unable to hide the accusation in his voice.

“I mean, to be honest, my feelings on that haven’t changed much,” she says quietly. He sighs but before he can interject, she continues. “ _But_ , I’m putting all that aside because it’s clear that you like this Caleb guy, and who am I to stand in the way of you being happy?”

Eric’s scowl lessens. “Well, good,” is all he can manage.

Lardo looks at her own phone, gasping. “Shit. I need to go get Shitty now. People are probably gonna start showing up any minute! I trust that you, Rans, and Holster can hold things down until I’m back?”

“Don’t worry, Lardo, we got this! And please, try to relax a bit on your way there. If you’re stressed out he’ll suspect something, and if you chill you’ll be able to actually enjoy it. You’ve done everything you can at this point!”

She smiles, nodding. “Thanks, Bits. Make sure your phone is near you at all times! One job, remember!”

People start arriving only a few minutes after Lardo leaves, most of them complete strangers to Eric. He realizes that there’s so much about his friends that he still doesn’t know, things he might never know. They know each other on a different level, the kind of knowledge that only comes from years of friendship and fights and goodbyes and reunions. He feels oddly at peace with it, however. Really, he feels lucky to be involved at all.

There are a few people he recognizes, of course. Dex and Nursey arrive together, greeting Eric briefly before going off to mingle. He assumes that a lot of the people in attendance are current or former Samwell hockey players, or other people that Shitty knew on campus. They all seem around the same age, at least, nobody older than their mid-twenties.

He checks his phone feverishly, both to try to ignore that he’s starting to feel out of place, and to ensure that he doesn’t miss Lardo’s text. He’s standing in the kitchen, glancing back and forth between his screen and the front door, guarding the cookies so nobody touches them until Shitty arrives. Ransom and Holster are already handing out drinks, mostly beers and glasses of wine.

The world around him stops when he glances up and sees a familiar tall figure wearing a suit come through the door. Jack looks around, Eric quickly averting his eyes so as not to meet Jack’s, and thankfully he heads off in the other direction. Before he can really register the fact that he’d even seen Jack, his phone buzzes in his hand.

**Lardo (ur gf): at a red light, be about 3 min!!!!**

He quickly shakes off all his nerves and locates Ransom and Holster, knowing they’ll have better luck getting everybody to quiet down and hide.

“They’re almost here,” he says, a little thrown off by the own breathiness of his voice. He looks around him quickly, not seeing Jack anywhere, then heads back toward the front door as Ransom and Holster start yelling for everybody to “shut the fuck up” and hide. Eric waits about a minute before nodding to Holster.

“Lights are going out now! If you all scream like seventh graders because it’s suddenly dark, I swear to god I will—”

And then the lights are out and Holster’s threat is drowned out by people yelling, pretending to be scared. He hears Holster roar “FUCK YOU GUYS” and shushes loudly, feeling giddy and excited. His hand is resting on the light switch, the street in his view out the window. His heart jumps as a car pulls up.

“They just pulled in,” he whispers as loud as he can, giggling as Holster whispers more threats to the people who still haven’t shut up. There’s the sound of car doors and Shitty’s voice, boisterous in the cold December air.

Eric holds his breath as Lardo pushes the door open, her face gleeful in the darkness.

“—and _then_ , this asshole decides that he actually can’t do any more research for us, because—”

But before Shitty can finish his sentence, the lights are on and there’s a deafening cheer of  “SURPRISE!”

Shitty almost falls as he backs against the half-open door, which swings shut behind him. “HOLY FUCK,” he shouts in return, his eyes wide. He gapes for a second, looking at all the people around him, his eyes landing on Eric. Somehow, they widen even more and his open mouth turns upward.

“ _ERIC FUCKING BITTLE WHAT IN THE GODDAMN HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!_ ”

Eric laughs as Shitty rushes at him, scooping him up into a hug, swinging him back and forth. “All the way from fucking California? Are you kidding me?” he asks as he plops Eric back down.

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Eric responds, his cheeks burning when he realizes everybody is looking at them. Shitty just laughs and grabs Eric’s face, kissing his forehead before turning to everybody else and starting a parade of hello’s.

Lardo stays back with Eric, laughing. “I think it worked,” she says, gazing softly in Shitty’s direction.

“Yeah, there’s no way he saw it coming. Not even Shitty is _that_ extra unless it’s genuine.”

Lardo nods, still looking at him as he greets all of his friends. People are dispersing now, grabbing second drinks (or thirds) and music starts to play.

“You know, you really did a great job, Lardo,” Eric says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Think so?”

He grins. “Absolutely.” His whole body tenses when he sees Shitty tackle hug Jack, wrapping his legs around his waist and hanging there like a koala.

Lardo clears her throat. “And now that you’ve completed yours, _my_ mission begins!” she says.

“What do you mean?”

Lardo reaches up and squeezes his hand. “Mission keep-Eric-distracted-and-happy-and-away-from-Jack, of course!”

He rolls his eyes. “Lardo, you don’t have to do that. I want you to have fun, too!”

“And you think spending time with you isn’t a fucking blast? I’m not even personally friends with at least half of these people, plus _you_ came all the way from the West Coast.”

Eric sighs. “Yeah, I guess so. Oh, wait, we should have Shitty look at the cookies before people start eating them,” he says, wanting any excuse to move to another room and not have to see Jack, slightly overdressed, smiling, a glass of wine in hand.

The air stops in his throat as he gets his first good look at him. Jack had always been in good shape, but during the summer it was mostly from running so he had been more slim. Now, some of the muscular definition had returned and _lord_ , it suited him.

“Good idea,” Lardo says, quickly, ushering him toward the kitchen. “SHITTY. ASS. KITCHEN. NOW!” she shouts over her shoulder. Shitty joins them, still grinning like an idiot.

“Lardo, this is seriously one of the coolest things you’ve ever done,” he says, his arms suddenly around her shoulders. She glances sideways at Eric, looking slightly awkward.

“It was nothing, Shits, really.”

He just rolls his eyes and laughs, leaning down to kiss her. She pushes away slightly. “Really? In front of everybody?”

Shitty gives a half-hearted look around. “It’s literally just us and Bits in here, dude. Plus, I’m pretty sure everybody knows anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess…” she responds.

Eric refuses to let the sudden silence become awkward, so he interjects with: “Cookies!”

Shitty and Lardo both frown at him, then Lardo’s face lights up as she remembers. “Yes, cookies!”

She guides him over to the counter where the tray is, letting him look over the creation.

“No way. Bits, did you make these?”

Eric nods. “Holly, too!”

“You’d better watch yourself, or I’m gonna be kissing you, too,” Shitty says, still looking at the cookies. “You know, one of my first memories of you is that day you came home with that big ass bag of cookies and I ended up eating half my weight,” he sighs, smiling.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Eric says, chuckling.

Shitty turns to him. “Don’t you _dare_ apologize, you goddamn angel.” He hugs Eric, laughing. “Really though,” he says, his voice gentle, “thank you so much. For the cookies, for being here, just… I really missed you, Bits,”

Eric pushes away and smacks his chest. “If you make me cry in this kitchen I will destroy you, even if it _is_ your birthday,” Eric warns, smiling.

Shitty puts his hands up and takes a step back. “Yes, sir!” He then grabs Lardo’s hand. “C’mon, you put this shindig together, let’s go enjoy it!”

She looks at Eric, who quickly gestures for her to go, because, really, he’ll be _fine_. He picks up a cookie as they leave, taking a small bite as he goes to exit the kitchen. He decides that he can actually join the party in a few minutes and for now elects to lean against the wall right outside the kitchen, watching people around him mingle. Without realizing he’s doing it, his eyes scan the room for Jack again. It’s so unsettling knowing that they’re suddenly in the same building together, so close after being so far apart for four months. The very same house where everything started. And where it ended. The only place that, even after so much time away, still feels like home.

He almost inhales a bite of his cookie when he finally finds Jack and their eyes meet, just for a second. Eric looks down, coughing, trying not to choke.

Even worse is when he suddenly sees a familiar head of hair moving through the crowd. He blinks hard, sure he must be wrong, but sure enough the man goes right for Jack. In a moment of impulse he leaves his post against the wall and goes to intervene, but his body freezes and the cookie falls out of his hand when the man quickly kisses Jack’s cheek and they embrace. He kicks the cookie into the kitchen and stomps into the sea of people, ignoring the confused looks that his intense expression earns him from a few he passes. He finds Lardo and grabs her arm, pulling her away from her conversation despite her cries of protest. He wrenches open the door to her bedroom and pulls her inside, shutting it behind them.

“Did you know?!” he asks, his voice shaking with anger.

“Did I know what?”

He scoffs. “Don’t play with me, Lardo, did you fucking know _he_ would be here?”

“I—well, yes, I did, but—“

Eric cuts her off, his whole body seething in rage, his fingertips practically buzzing.

“Kent _fucking_ Parson was invited to this party, and you decided not to tell me?”


	7. it's the hardest thing i've ever done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by: [Still Run by Wet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPNqZeVrl2A)

“Eric, please just take a breath. There’s a good explanation for this.”

“I really doubt that,” he spits, throwing himself onto the edge of her bed and crossing his arms. He shudders, the image of the two of them embracing burned into his pupils.

“In my defense,” she growls, “I wasn’t asked until earlier today if Jack could bring a guest.”

“But you knew it was him?”

“I…yes, I knew it was him. I didn’t tell you,” she continues loudly as Eric starts to protest, “because I knew it would just ruin your day and you would obsess over it.”

“Well guess what? We’re there now. And I think it was really shitty of you to keep that from me.”

Lardo huffs, shaking her head. “Would knowing only a few hours earlier have changed anything for you? What do you think you could’ve done?”

He shrugs, at a loss. “I don’t know, I could’ve at least prepared myself to see Kent fucking  _ kiss _ Jack.”

Her face is suddenly distraught and she sits down next to him. “Hold on, he kissed him?”

Eric nods. “I mean, it was on the cheek, but it was still a kiss. I think…” he adds. He’s suddenly unsure of what he saw, or maybe his brain is just trying to convince him otherwise. “They’re not here, like,  _ together _ , are they?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer.

“I mean, he’s  _ Jack _ , he didn’t really give me a lot of details. I was under the impression that they were just here as friends again, but…” She doesn’t finish her sentence. Eric feels anger bubbling over his brim again.

“You weren’t there the day I tried to help Kent after he tried to go cold turkey, Lardo. Jack was  _ furious _ . He was so mad that I let Kent inside the house, even in that awful state he was in, and now… Now he fucking brought him back himself? It’s—it’s—”

“It’s not right,” Lardo agrees, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He pulls away, head whipping to her. “Oh no, don’t think I’m not still angry at you! You were the one who told him it was okay to bring him!”

“What was I supposed to do, say no?”

Eric stares at her, his jaw set. She stares back, her eyes glassy.

“Can we please not fight? At least not tonight? Eric, I missed you so much, and I know I fucked up, but it’s already done and he’s here and I just want to spend time with you and not have to worry about all of the stupid drama.”

Eric stands up, his voice raising again. “It’s not just  _ stupid drama _ , Lardo, last summer Kent almost—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! That’s not what I meant, it’s just—”

“It’s  _ just _ my life? It’s just all the progress Jack made last summer crumbling down around us and my first love running around with an abusive asshole who held him back for  _ years _ ?! It’s all fucked, and you  _ know _ it, you knew it the second Jack asked if he could bring Kent, which is why… Which is why you said yes, because that question alone was enough to let you know that they were getting close again, and there was nothing you could do to stop it either way.”

She nods, sniffling. “At least now we can see if Kent’s really changed at all. And I just want Jack to be happy. Honestly, Eric, I know you only ever saw the bad parts of Kent, but he had good moments too. If  _ that _ Kent is back…”

“You’re seriously defending him? Even knowing everything you do?” Eric asks, sighing and turning away. He rubs his temples, the music outside the door just a notch too loud for him to concentrate properly.

“I’m just trying to see a way that this all turns out okay.”

_ Either way, it ends up with Jack being with Kent and me being with Caleb _ , he thinks, wanting to punch a wall, wanting to scream and break something. Everything.

“Look, can we  _ please _ just go and try to have a good time? If anything, for Shitty? You can just pretend Jack isn’t here at all.”

“That’s pretty hard, considering he’s the only reason  _ I’m _ here in the first place.”

Lardo sighs. “You can yell at me all you want tomorrow, okay? And I won’t blame you for that. But for now, let’s just...let go. For one night.”

 

And let go Eric does. It isn’t until his third glass of wine that he remembers he hadn’t eaten much all day and is suddenly much drunker than he planned on. Luckily, Lardo does keep her promise and acts as a social barrier between Eric and Jack, who Eric rarely sees without Kent for the next hour or so. He doesn’t get to spend much time with Shitty, who’s being the social butterfly that he is and trying to spend time with everybody at the party, grateful to all of them just for being there.

A small hiccup in the night occurs when Don’t Hurt Yourself by Beyoncé comes on and Eric spills wine down his front, refusing to let Lardo drag him upstairs until the song is over, both of them out of breath from laughter and no longer thinking about their prior fight.

Eric flops backward onto his own bed, exhaling and trying to collect himself. He feels slightly heavy and off-balance, but all of the bad feelings have taken a short break, it seems. Lardo is digging through his suitcase, shaking her head in amusement.

“What’re you doin’?” he says, his words slurring together. Were the situation more serious, he might be able to compose himself a bit more, but he decides to allow the alcohol to dictate his actions.

“I’m trying to find another shirt for you so you don’t walk around looking like you got stabbed.”

He just hums, closing his eyes and enjoying the slightly heavy feeling, a bit of a disconnect from what’s going on around him.

“I don’t love him you know. I don’t even  _ like _ him, maybe.”

“Mmhmm, of course you don’t,” she responds, humoring him.

He sits up, frowning. “No, I’m serious. He’s such a jerk sometimes, and all he ever wants to do is have sex or talk about his music.”

Lardo stands up now, her eyes widening. “Oh, you...you’re talking about Caleb?”

“Who else would I?...Oh,” he says, laughing weakly. “Don’t be silly, of course I love Jack!” he says, flopping backward again and reaching up toward the ceiling. He hands close around nothing and fall back to his side.

“Right, yeah, of course,” she says quickly, sitting next to him. “So what were you saying about Caleb?”

He picks up his head and looks at her. “Don’t remember,” he mutters, his head falling again. “Sometimes I just wish I could start over again, you know?”

“I know, Bits, I know. Sit up and take your shirt off.”

Eric giggles. “Ooh, Lardo, scandalous!”

She rolls her eyes but laughs, throwing a new shirt at Eric’s face. “I  _ meant _ so you can change into a new one, dumbass. Maybe we should keep you away from that wine for a little while.”

He unbuttons his shirt slowly, fingers fumbling and not doing what he wants them do. He pouts as he looks down, realizing he’s only unbuttoned two.

“Help?”

“You’re hopeless,” she responds as she quickly undoes the remaining buttons, stepping away again. “Can you get that other shirt on, or do you need my help with that too?”

His head is stuck; he’s tried to put his head through a sleeve hole.

“No, I got it,” he groans as he continues to try to push. Finally, he pulls the shirt in a way that his head slips into the right hole, then he lazily puts his arms through.

“It’s backwards.”

“It’s all the same color, why does it matter?”

She laughs, sitting down on the floor. “I don’t remember you being such a messy drunk. I swear, you’ve hit toddler status.”

He huffs. “Well, you’ve never seen me  _ drunk  _ drunk I guess. During all those parties during the summer, I was always trying to impress Jack, so I never let things get out of hand.” The wine is doing his talking for him now; suddenly the topic of Jack feels casual and open for discussion. He can tell Lardo thinks otherwise by the look on her face.

“I guess so,” she says.

“Do you talk to him?” Eric asks, laying back again and closing his eyes. He can just hear the music about all the chatter beneath them, faint but comforting.

“I mean, yeah, a little bit. Eric, are you sure you wanna talk about this right now?”

“Why not?”

“Well...I don’t know. You were really mad earlier, and now suddenly he’s all you’ve mentioned.”

He rubs his eyes, yawning. “Well, I am mad still, but it feels more like a teaser for being mad. Like I know I’m gonna be real mad again tomorrow, but for now it’s just...pre-mad.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“SHHH, yes it does. What do you talk about with him? How is he?”

She sighs. “Eric, I’m not just gonna be the go-between for you and Jack. If there are things he wants you to know, you would know them.”

He sits up suddenly, his stomach doing a flip. “So I should go talk to him, shouldn’t I? Now that we can finally do it in person?”

Lardo is on her feet, coming toward him. “NOOO, no no no,  _ very _ bad idea, Bits. Especially with all of that wine in your system.”

Eric shakes his head, pushing her away. “We haven’t talked in months, and I miss him. And everything still hurts and I want it to stop.  _ And _ I need to tell him I want him to be my boyfriend again. I’m ready.”

“You  _ have _ a boyfriend. Or, well, a  _ something _ . Plus, that’s not exactly realistic—”

“But I want a _good_ boyfriend. Plus you were the one who said that you think we’re gonna end up together someday anyway!”

“I know, but not now. Not yet!” she says frantically.

“I want to at least ask him why he paid for me to come.”

“He did it because he loves Shitty and he knows that Shitty would’ve been sad if you weren’t here.”

“ _ Or _ because he wants to get back together!”

“Then why hasn’t he talked to you all night?”

Eric shrugs. “Maybe…” he starts, trying to justify his argument, “he’s afraid that I’d say no, so he’s waiting for me to say something first. If I could just get him away from Kent…” He feels anger surge in him again when he remembers Kent and everything he’s done. “What if they  _ are _ back together?”

“I don’t know, Eric. It would really suck, for a lot of reasons.” Her voice is frustrated. “But I think you need to drop this subject for now and focus on why you’re here.”

He stares at her blankly, blinking.

“ _ Shitty _ , remember? His birthday? Celebrating his super cool existence?”

“Oh, yeah, that.”

“Come on, let’s go back downstairs. And you’re switching to water for the rest of the night, mister. I don’t need you painting my walls with purple puke.”

His stomach actually turns at those words and he blinks away a brief spell of dizziness as he stands, following her back down the stairs. Jack and Kent standing side-by-side in conversation with someone Eric doesn’t recognize is the first sight he sees. Eric scowls and makes a quick turn toward the kitchen, his drunk mind unable to stop him from glancing over as he goes.  _ Kent goddamn fucking Parson _ …

“Hey! Eric!” he hears as he enters, his mind suddenly being pulled back to the party, remembering that there are other people there besides Jack and Kent. He’s approached by Nursey and Dex, hand in hand, in high spirits.

“Oh! Hey, you two!” he says, hugging them both. “How’ve you been?”

“Not too bad!” Nursey says, his cheeks tinged a little pink. “You know, senior year. Sort of a whirlwind.”

Eric nods, his intoxicated mind still wandering.

“Lot of writing.  _ Lot  _ of hockey.”

“How’s the team doing?” Eric asks, slightly surprised to find himself actually interested in the answer.

“So far, so good!” Nursey says proudly.

Dex nods. “We knew Chowder was a good pick for captain, but he’s really blown us all away.”

“Is he here?”

Nursey shakes his head, his expression saddening a bit. “Nah, he had some family thing to go to. Poor kid almost cried when he found out.”

Eric can’t help but giggle. It turns into more of a strangled hiccup when he sees Jack and Kent pass by the door to the kitchen, talking seriously about something.

“What do you know about the Jack and Kent situation?” Eric asks, aware that his changing the topic so abruptly is rude. But he’s desperate for answers.

Nursey frowns and Dex raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Nursey asks. “If anything...I’d think you know more than us. You were here for most of it.”

Eric shakes his head, frustrated. “No, I mean the  _ current _ situation,” he specifies, looking between their shoulders to see that Kent and Jack have disappeared again.

“Current situation?”

“Yes, why is he  _ here _ ?”

“Why is Jack here? Is that really—”

Nursey shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “Are you saying that Kent Parson is  _ here _ ? Like, right now?”

Eric nods, still trying to see where they’d gone. He’s not sure how Nursey and Dex had missed it, but the looks on their faces are enough to tell him that they really don’t know any more than he does.

“I-I have no idea,” Nursey stutters, now swiveling around to see what Eric is looking at. Eric grabs him, pulling him back around.

“No! Don’t draw any suspicion, I’m just trying to see where they went. So you don’t know  _ anything _ ?” Eric scowls, tunnel vision taking priority over manners.

“No, nothing,” Dex says tersely, looking at Eric strangely.

He sighs, giving up on trying to find them again. “Sorry, you two. It’s been a weird day for me.”

“I can tell,” remarks Dex, which earns him an elbow and a pointed look from Nursey.

“Well anyway, I see the two of you are still together!” Eric says, trying to bring the conversation back but unable to hide the twinge of jealousy in his voice.

“We sure are,” Nursey says, planting a quick kiss on Dex’s cheek and making Eric twitch, suddenly wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “It’ll be what? Seven months, Dexey?”

Dex’s face goes red at the use of the pet name but he nods, grabbing Nursey’s hand. “Feels like longer, though.”

“Well, we were  _ basically _ dating for a long time before we made it official. But we’re both hopeless gays so it took some time to get us on the same page.”

“Can I ask a sort of weird question?”

Dex glaces sideways at Nursey, who gives Eric an apprehensive nod, clearly aware that he’s not in the best state of mind.

“How exactly does it...work?” he fumbles, not properly expressing the real essence of his inquiry. He can tell they’re also both confused by the blushes on their faces.

“You mean...sex?” Nursey asks, an eyebrow quirked.

Eric also feels himself blush, shaking his head profusely. “No, lord, no, I’m pretty clear on that.”

The other two both breathe a sigh of relief, probably grateful to avoid what would inevitably be a painfully awkward conversation.

“No, I just meant…” he thinks for a second, his impaired mind wrestling with words. “How do you manage to stay together? I mean, not just you, but how do people do it?”

Nursey gives him an understanding look, placing a hand on his upper arm and squeezing. “Ah, alright. Well…” he says, looking at Dex, who gives a sort of half shrug. “I guess the most important thing is communication. Even when things get really shitty and you wonder how the hell you’ll be able to move forward, sometimes just talking it out can fix so much.” He looks at Dex as if to ask,  _ anything to add _ ?

Dex just nods. “It does help to always be on the same page. Both of us are super busy this year and sometimes we don’t have the time to really see each other, but as long as we let each other know…” he shrugs again. “Of course we fight sometimes, but we try to at least make it constructive.”

Nursey chuckles. “Although, Dex and I have slightly different definitions of fighting, but overall I agree.”

Eric smiles, curious. “Different how?”

“Well—”

“If we disagree on something minor and bicker about it, Dex worries that I’m mad at him,” Nursey says, his voice amused.

“Hey, I come from a passive aggressive family, I’m used to all the fighting being subtle,” Dex grumbles.

Nursey chuckles again, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “This is what I mean, babe. You always jump to defense mode right away. I was just teasing!”

“Any other tips?” Eric asks, his mind suddenly churning violently.

“Uh...Other than communication, being willing to make some sacrifices is the number one thing you have to learn. Being with another person means you don’t always gets your way,” he says, squeezing Dex’s shoulders with a grin. “But if both people are on board with that, the relationship becomes a lot easier.”

“Support from friends helps, too,” Dex adds quietly. “Even though Samwell is so progressive, my family is super conservative, so having a good support system took away a lot of the fear.”

“Oh yeah, you also have to accept how scary it is! Being vulnerable and letting another person see such an intimate part of you can be terrifying, but when they do, there’s no better feeling.”

“Why are you asking all of this?” Dex interjects, glancing backward over his shoulder.

Eric gapes for a second, then realizes he does have a good excuse. “Well, I sort of have a boyfriend.”

Dex’s head snaps back to Eric, his expression confused. “Wait, really? I would’ve thought— _ OOF _ !” Nursey elbows him again.

“What Dex  _ means _ is that he’s happy to see that you’ve made a connection like that even in a time that might be emotionally taxing.”

Eric raises an eyebrow, impressed by Nursey’s quick and tactful recovery. It doesn’t take a mind reader to tell what they must think of him, already in another relationship so soon after his last one ended. He’s also unsure how much they really know about it.

“He lives out in California, then?” Dex asks, massaging his ribs.

“Yeah, he actually works for me at the bakery. That’s how we met.”

“Oh, so he’s a baker too?”

Eric chuckles, shaking his head. “Not really. He’s actually a musician who’s struggling to find any traction in the music scene, so this is sort of a temporary thing for him.”

“He’s not here, is he?” Dex asks, yelping as another elbow connects with his side.

“Honestly, do you even know how people work?” Nursey says. “Of course he’s not here,” he answers, rolling his eyes and giving Eric an apologetic look.

“I’ll kill you if I wake up with a bruise,” Dex scowls, rubbing his ribs again. “And I still don’t understand.”

“Um…” Eric starts, but Nursey waves him off.

“Eric, don’t worry about it. He’ll figure it out, there’s no point in getting into it.”

“You’re very good at picking up on small things,” Eric says, suddenly feeling like there’s a magnifying glass on him. Nursey just shrugs.

“I guess so. I’m a writer so I think I’m just used to seeing things from another person’s perspective.”

“You must be really good at compromising.”

“I mean,  _ I _ definitely think I am,” he says, looking at Dex, who just rolls his eyes.

“You’re a goddamn saint, Derek Nurse. I’m very rarely unhappy with the outcomes of our disagreements,” Dex says, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Well, there you have it! Oh look, Dex, it’s Mason! I haven’t seen him since he graduated, we should go say hi!”

Dex looks at someone over Eric’s shoulder, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind catching up. Quickly,” he adds, raising a finger in warning.

Nursey laughs. “Dude’s infamous for talking your ear off. Really nice guy, though,” he explains. Eric just nods. “Maybe we’ll see you a little later?” Nursey asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be around all night!”

“Cool. Well, just in case, good luck with that guy. I hope our advice wasn’t too pukey for you, everybody else would fine the hell out of us,” he admits.

Eric just laughs. “Well I found it very useful, so no fines from me.”

Nursey nods, clapping him on the shoulder. “See you around, Eric!” Dex gives him a wave as they cross the kitchen.

Eric barely has time to process the plan he’s come up with when Lardo is upon him, a large glass of water being shoved into his hands. He almost spills it as he jumps in surprise.

“Sweet  _ hell _ , Lardo.”

“Drink. Ah!” she says, holding up a hand to stop his retort. “ _ Drink _ !”

“But I feel much better now! Look!” he says, raising a finger to the tip of his nose, then passing the glass to his other hand and repeating the motion.

“Just drink it, Bits, you’ll thank me tomorrow,” she says, physically lifting the glass in his hands to his face.

“Alright, alright!” He swats away her hand and takes a few large gulps, not breaking eye contact. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah, but you better finish that! The last thing you want is to be hungover for your flight tomorrow.”

Eric groans, leaning back against the counter. “I don’t wanna think about going back already,” he pouts, raising the glass to his lips again, reveling in the cool liquid against his throat, his reckless mind still goading him to follow through on his impulsive thoughts. Communication. Fear. Compromise.

“I don’t either, but at the very least I don’t want you to have a shitty time on the plane. Oh fuck, is something on fire outside?!”

Eric turns quickly, looking out the sliding glass doors that lead from the kitchen to the backyard. Sure enough, a faint orange light and a cloud of smoke can be seen through the frosty glass. Lardo runs to the door, using her hand to wipe away the condensation. She runs back over to Eric, cursing.

“It’s Ransom and Holster, I think they took the fucking legs off the barbecue and are using it as a fire pit. Just stay here, I’ll go deal with them,” she says, locating a fire extinguisher and wrenching the door open, already screaming profanities at them.

Eric’s heart starts to race, suddenly seeing an opening. He peeks out of the kitchen, his body lighting on fire as he spots Jack and Kent. Kent has his phone pressed to his ear, looking exasperated. He says something to Jack and walks toward the front door, stepping outside and closing it behind him. Eric glances around him, seeing someone at the counter pouring something into shot glasses. He approaches quickly, fully aware that this person is a complete stranger, but too drunk to care.

“Is that Fireball?” he asks.

“Um, yeah, but—”

Eric grabs one of the shots, throwing it back and squeezing his eyes shut. He sets the glass down, motioning for him to pour another as he gets over the slight burn. The guy looks him up and down, raising an eyebrow.

“You sure, little dude?”

Eric glares at him. “I’m exactly the  _ last _ person you want to patronize right now.”

In response his glass is quickly refilled and another shot is down the hatch, the burn increasing. He feels it sliding down his throat toward his twisting stomach, trying not to think about how much he wants to throw up. Eric runs to the kitchen door again, seeing that Jack is alone still, leaning against the wall near the stairs and drinking a beer. He takes a deep breath, his body momentarily frozen. He clenches his fist. Counts to three. Takes a step forward.

Suddenly his body is moving of its own accord, set in motion by anguish and loneliness and frustration and one too many glasses of wine. The biting flavor of cinnamon sits heavy on his tongue as his crosses the room, almost tripping twice, almost turning back when Jack’s eyes meet his and don’t move elsewhere. He can feel his hands shaking and wills them to stop but is unable to calm his body down, every nerve on fire. He can see that Jack’s expression has shifted, realizing that Eric is, in fact, heading in his direction. Jack looks down at his beer, turning it in his hands.

And now Jack is in front of him for the first time in months. Eric had almost forgotten what it was like seeing him in person, had almost forgotten the striking blue of his eyes and the cut of his jaw. His skin looks smooth, well-treated. Broad shoulders suddenly taking up the whole room, dark hair blinding Eric to everything around them.

“Um...hi, Eric,” Jack says, his eyes still flitting between Eric’s and his drink.

“Hi,” he responds, wishing his voice wouldn’t shake the way it does. He’s suddenly forgotten why he’s here, overcome by the urge to knock the drink out of Jack’s hands and hug him and slap him and cry into his shoulder.

“It’s-it’s good to see you,” Jack says, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” Eric agrees. “You, too. You look great.”

“Did you...need something?”

Eric frowns slightly.  _ Did he? What was the goal, again? _

“Oh. I just wanted to say thank you.”

Jack raises an eyebrow.

“For paying for me to fly out?”

“Oh,” Jack echoes. “Don’t mention it, Eric. Shitty’s always talking about how he misses you, so…”

Eric nods, licking his lips to fight how dry his mouth has become.

“Do you?” he asks, wishing he could take the words back the second they slip from his mouth.

“I-do I what?”

“Do  _ you _ miss me?” Eric asks quietly, his voice barely audible over the chatter around them.

Jack’s eyes widen, his hands peeling at the label on his bottle. “Um, I...maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Eric shakes his head. “What do you mean? You can’t tell me you flew me out here with no intentions of talking to me,” he says, trying to bite back the emotions that are flowing up, trying to stick the cork back into the bottle.

“You’re drunk,” he points out, making Eric bite his lip.

“What’s your point?”

Jack shrugs. “I just...think we should wait.”

“God, wait for  _ what _ , Jack?!”

Jack frowns slightly, his expression still nervous. “I don’t  _ know _ , I just-I can’t, I don’t want to do this right now.”

Nursey’s advice about communication echoes in the back of Eric’s mind; he feels anger start to build, a pressure he’d tamped down suddenly swelling inside him.

“You can’t just shut down every time things get hard, Jack!” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but all of the frustration he’s swallowed is coming back up. “You fucking stomped on my heart,” he continues, his voice breaking. “And you went and closed yourself off, and that wasn’t fair!”

“I was hurt,” Jack says, his own eyes now misty.

Eric scoffs. “So your solution was to make sure I was hurting, too? For a whole week you locked yourself in your room, and I had to sleep right next door knowing that you were probably tearing yourself up.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?! When was the last time someone understood you the way I did? Kent fucking Parson? And look how that turned out.”

“Don’t bring him into this,” Jack says, taking a step forward.

“What are you gonna do? Hit me?” Eric asks, shocking himself.

Jack’s mouth drops open slightly, a tear making its way down his cheek. “That’s sick,” he whispers. “You shouldn’t have—”

“I can’t believe you’re actually defending him right now. After the fit you threw when I tried to help him out, and now you’re  _ here _ with him?! After what he did to you? And to me?”

“Things have ch-changed,” Jack stutters, setting the bottle down on an end table, his hands coming up to his face.

“I thought you cared about me, Jack,” Eric says, trying not to scream. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot. You’re right back where you started.”

“And  _ I _ thought that I could trust you,” Jack growls back, pointing a finger at Eric. “And then the second I felt safe again, you-you...you just  _ left _ . You were supposed to be there for me!”

“I  _ was _ there! I never—not even for a second—intended on just tossing you to the side,” he fires back, a bone-deep sadness rising to slightly quell the anger. “And now look where you are. Who do you have?”

“I have myself,” Jack says, his voice suddenly a little more sure, but still heavy. “I just...I wish things could be different, I wish we could’ve done this together.”

“Jack, what the hell was I supposed to do? Say no to Holly? Just turn down my dream and run away with you? How could you ask that from me?”

“Because I  _ thought _ you loved me,” Jack says, shaking his head. “I thought you loved me, I thought you loved me,” he repeats as he leans against the wall, hardly a whisper in the din.

“Jack, honey, of course I loved you,” Eric says, his eyes flowing over with tears now. He steps forward, reaches up to touch Jack’s face; he flinches, but doesn’t pull away. “I loved you more than anyone, I still—”

“And what the fuck do you think  _ you’re _ doing?” comes a scathing voice, one that sends a shiver through Eric’s body. His head whips around and Kent is standing there, his expression murderous. “Step away from him, please,” he says, his tone dangerous.

Eric glares at him but steps back as Kent pushes past, wrapping one arm around Jack’s shoulder and grabbing his upper arm with the other, a clear act of possession.

“This isn’t your business, Parson,” Eric spits, balling his hands into fists so Kent doesn’t see them quivering.

“I disagree,” he says, looking at Eric with disgust. “Fuck, Bittle, Jack told me that you never really had any idea what you were doing, but this is just next level tactless.”

“Kent-” Jack chokes out, shaking his head, eyes wide.

Eric looks at Jack, feeling the world around him crumble. “You...you said that?”

Jack hesitates, and it’s in the moment of silence that Eric’s heart shifts. He starts to turn away, unable to stop the tears now cascading down his face, wetting his collar.

“Eric, wait, please,” Jack calls after him, his soft voice cracking. Eric hears Kent murmur, “Jack, it’s not worth it,” but a second later there’s a firm hand on his shoulder. He stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

“I shouldn’t have talked to you,” he cries, trying to dry his face but fresh tears wetting his skin again.

“Bitty…” Jack murmurs.

Eric whips around, ripping Jack’s hand from his shoulder. “No, don’t you  _ dare _ , don’t you fucking dare,” he yells, not caring if anybody hears. “You’ve lost all rights to call me that, to call me  _ anything _ ! I thought you fucking understood who I was, I thought you loved me even though it was all so new to me! It was all just bullshit, wasn’t it? I was just a stepping stone, wasn’t I?”

“You know that’s not true,” Jack pleads, grabbing Eric’s hand.

“I thought I did,” he says, wrenching his arm away. “Well you know what? Maybe you were, too. We both have boyfriends now, so maybe we weren’t meant to be together anyway.”

“Eric, I don’t...wait, what?” he says, baffled. “You have a boyfriend?”

He’s about to launch into his answer, but he jumps when a pair of hands is suddenly on his shoulders.

“Alright, kiddo, let’s go,” comes Lardo’s voice in his ear, stoic and reassuring. “Come on, upstairs,  _ upstairs _ ,” she urges, guiding him along.

“Well good luck with everything, Jack! With hockey and with Kent and whatever!” he screams over his shoulder, face streaked with tears. “I’m glad you got your wish, really hope that works out for you!”

“Fucking hell, Bits,” Lardo mumbles, pushing him a little harder and trying to stand in his line of vision. The last thing Eric sees before they start to climb the stairs is Jack running for the door, Kent chasing after him and looking back with poison in his eyes.

His body is foreign, clunky as they ascend, his head spinning and his vision blurred. He feels like he’s trapped underwater, his lungs trying to function under the weight of an ocean, his body on fire as if his heart can pump only the salt water that’s pouring from his eyes. Lardo is silent; he can’t look her in the eye.

She closes the door to his room behind her, guiding him over to the bed and pulling a box of tissues off the nightstand.

Then, Eric cries. He cries in a way he never has before, his throat scratched raw, every muscle sore. It’s the type of cry that he’d never want anyone to see, but something about Lardo’s silent presence grounds him, her hand gently stroking his hair as he lays in her lap.

He isn’t sure how long they stay there, but eventually the tears do stop coming. His breathing ragged and shaky, his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around tight. Lardo’s firm grip on his shoulder, her thumb gently moving back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually says, his voice hoarse.

“For what?”

“For  _ what _ ? I just ruined Shitty’s party.”

Lardo sighs. “You didn’t, Eric. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you,” she says kindly. “I know you’re at, like, your  _ lowest _ low right now, but nobody else even knows what actually just happened.”

Eric presses his knuckles to his eyes. “I hate myself.”

“Stop that,” she warns gently. “Now, what the hell happened?”

Eric shrugs, at a complete loss.  _ Where do I even start _ ?

“It was stupid, I just...he was  _ there _ , and Nursey was talking about communication, and then Kent left—”

“You had more to drink, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but truthfully, I made the decision to talk to him even before that. The shots were just for some extra courage.”

“Shots? Plural?”

“Yes.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “And then what?”

“I don’t know,  _ fuck _ , things just went downhill so fast. I wanted to talk and he said it wasn’t a good idea, and it just reminded me of how he wouldn’t talk to me at the end of the summer, and everything just sort of...came out. Lardo...he’s talked to Kent about me. About the stupid, naive kid he thinks I am, apparently.”

“Eric, I know Jack. There’s no way he said those things. At least, not in those words.”

“Either way, he’s been talking to  _ him _ about  _ me _ . I feel like everything is so backwards, like I woke up today and everything is just wrong. He defended him,” he says, his voice breaking, tears threatening to form again. “And he blamed me for agreeing to go run the bakery, he said him shutting me out was basically my own fault because he just expected me to stick around for him.”

Lardo hums, thinking. “Jack said this? Not Kent?”

“Don’t you believe me?!”

“Eric, of course I do. I just think you’re both a little drunk—more than a little in your case—and you both probably said some things that weren’t fully true.”

“It doesn’t even matter. None of it,” Eric decides, finally sitting up.

“Of course it matters. Why else would it be affecting you like this?”

Eric shrugs, sniffling. “He’s made his choice. He can go off with his abuser and live whatever fucked up life he wants, see if I care.”

“Eric, please, you don’t mean that.”

He looks at her for a second. “What if I do?”

“That’s not the healthy way of going about this.”

Eric stands up, suddenly very dizzy. He falls back into a sitting position, stomach rolling unpleasantly.

“Is there a healthy way? Why not just burn the bridge? It’s clearly on its last legs.”

“I get that you’re upset, but you’re being a  _ little _ over dramatic.”

He glares at her, certain that the sight is anything but formidable with his red, puffy eyes.

“My fucking world just ended, could you let me have my moment?”

She throws her hands up, smirking slightly.

“Can we at least go back downstairs?”

“Um...I think it might be best for you to get some sleep.”

“You’re grounding me?!”

“I’m saving you,” she corrects. “Do you really wanna go back down there after the scene you caused?”

He sighs. “No. I guess not.”

She hugs him, rubbing his back. “Things will make more sense in the morning. You’ll be able to process, compartmentalize, and properly deal with everything you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t want that. I just...Lord, I want to start over,” he croaks.

“So you’ve mentioned. Unfortunately, time travel hasn’t been invented yet, so that’s not an option.”

“I’m trying to be serious,” he says, scowling.

“Me, too,” but she smiles as she says it. “Now get some sleep, okay? And try not to think about things too much, your drunk brain can’t handle it rationally enough for it to be productive.”

He nods, reluctantly crawling under the covers that she’s pulled up. She ruffles his hair and leaves quietly, shutting off the light and closing his door. Despite feeling like sandpaper is grating down his heart, his eyes close and he slips into a deep sleep almost right away, dreaming of a sunny summer afternoon when he was naive enough to think he knew what pain really felt like.


	8. push me to the moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by [Everyone is Gonna Love Me Now by Ingrid Michaelson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHnedneMfm0)
> 
> Obligatory "sorry for not updating for 6 months" comment hehe. Don't worry, y'all. This story WILL be completed eventually. Thanks to everybody who's still chuggin along with me :) And also shoutout to my girl Jazzy who is one of the only reasons I continue to write this monster!!!

Eric wakes up in a world different from the one he’d come to love, one that feels a little less colorful. Like a fracture in his timeline. He supposes the pounding in his head isn’t really helping his clarity, though. He sits up, his stomach twisting. The light coming through the curtains is too bright and he blinks rapidly, shuffling out of bed. His heart jumps when he remembers he’s supposed to be catching an early flight, but immediately calms down when he looks at the time and sees he has a couple hours.

He crawls back into bed, his limbs feeling like they belong to somebody else. Or at least, they used to. _He_ used to.

Eric pulls the covers over his body, shuddering in the early morning chill. His body still hasn’t woken up, his toes still stiff and cold, his muscles aching. His throat hurts from crying. The perfect picture of pity.

He’s not sure how long he lays there before he hears a soft knock on his door, followed by Lardo’s voice.

“Hey, kiddo. You awake yet?”

Eric sighs, trying to decide whether or not he wants to answer. After a second he gives a weak “yeah,” then presses his face back into the pillow, still not quite ready to face Lardo as she enters his old room. She crosses silently towards him and there’s sudden movement at the edge of his bed as she sits. He’s grateful that she doesn’t make any attempt to touch him or say anything, because he’s already on the brink of tears again.

She hovers next to him for a few minutes, a sort of muted tension drawn between them. A few times he feels her weight shift slightly, as if she’s thinking about reaching out and comforting him, but the contact never comes.

“Eric,” she says, her tone a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. “I know you, and you’re beating yourself up over this. It’s not gonna help anything to dwell on what happened, or what you _wish_ happened, or—”

He sits up suddenly, looking pointedly at her. She closes her mouth.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

She bites at her cheek, shaking her head slightly. “I really don’t think that’s the solution here.”

“And I _really_ don’t wanna talk about it.” He crosses his arm over his bare chest to emphasize his point.

“Haven’t we gone through this shit before?” she says, getting up from the bed and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Every single time you have to face something difficult, you just fucking bottle it up and let your suffering build!”

He stares at her, his frown resolute.

“I heard about some of the things you said to him, Eric. And what you’re doing right now makes you a hypocrite.”

His frown deepens and he clenches at his own skin tighter. “And how do you reckon that?” he growls.

“You said one of the worst things he did was shut you out, and now you’re doing the same thing to me, _and_ to yourself.”

“It’s not the same, he—”

“It _is_ the same, and you fucking _know_ it, but you literally refuse to let me help you when you need it. Look, Bits, I…” she pauses, running a hand through her hair. “I love you like a brother, you gotta know that, but I don’t know how much more of this I can put up with.”

His arms fall to his sides, frown melting into a softer expression of hurt. Betrayal.

“What are you saying?”

“I-I’m not _saying_ anything specific, just that—”

“Aren’t you the one who basically begged me to get back together with Jack?”

She frowns at him, bewildered. “What? When did I—”

“Over the phone, _weeks_ ago, you were pretty obviously anti-Caleb, and then you launched into this long, self-important speech about how you believe that Jack and I belong together and that he’s only happy when he’s with me. But last night you changed your tune completely. Suddenly it was a horrible idea to talk to him.”

Lardo scoffs, throwing her hands up. “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re not that fucking naive, Eric. You know that there would’ve been a chance for that eventually, and that last night was _not_ the time or the place. You just don’t want to face that fact that you might’ve fucked things up more than they were!”

A warm tear hits his hand. “Get out,” he says, his head feeling like a rapidly swelling balloon. He doesn’t want her to be there should it burst. “Please, just leave,” he says, unsure of how he’s keeping his voice even.

“You know I’m right,” she says, standing her ground.

He shakes his head. “I don’t really care. Go. Please.” Exasperation starts to creep in, a needle flush against the taut surface of his emotion-pregnant brain. “I just...can’t do this right now. I’m done.” He turns away from her and returns to his horizontal position, knees coming up to his chest.

After a silent moment, he hears a teary scoff and Lardo storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. He winces, his chest pounding.

Eric hears his phone buzz on the table next to his bed. Not moving from his pity ball, he reaches out and grabs it, unsurprised to find multiple texts from Caleb.

**C <3: hey! hope you had fun at the party**

**C <3: what time is your flight?**

**C <3: miss you :)**

He smiles in spite of himself, his body relaxing as he types out a response. Caleb had waited until after the party to text him, which Eric takes as a deliberate gift of space. He also remembers the time difference, feeling warm at the thought of Caleb waking up so early for him.

What’s he been so afraid of? The alcohol had made him say and do some things that he isn’t sure were really him, and now the prospect of going somewhere— _anywhere_ else is appealing. Leaving this disgusting room behind, with its fragments of broken memories scattered over the floorboards. He’s going back to a place where he’s wanted, where he’s _needed_ , and he’s come to the realization that the East Coast just doesn’t need him anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Will you please let me take you to the fucking airport?”

Eric doesn’t respond, dragging his suitcase out the door. He’d called an Uber shortly after his conversation with Lardo, which will be arriving any minute. She follows him outside, slamming the door behind her.

“So that’s it, then? You’re just gonna leave without saying goodbye? Sounds awfully familiar.”

He turns around, his suitcase falling to the ground next to him.

“I can’t even _look_ at you right now, do you understand that?”

“Bits, you’re being so fucking irrational. I know I fucked up, okay? But it would kill me to leave off like this, and I _know_ that it’s gonna be even worse for you.”

He sets his jaw, shaking his head. He doesn’t even care that she’s started to cry.

“Eric, _please_ …”

“Do you know what actually happened that night?”

Lardo shakes her head. “What are you talking about? What night?”

“With...Kent. _That_ night.”

She wipes her eyes, narrowing them at him. “I thought I did! I know he got a little physical and said some shitty stuff, but I’m guessing now that that’s not all of it. It can’t be, if this is how you’re reacting to him being here. I know he’s an asshole, but what could he have—”

“He threatened to rape me, Lardo. He almost went through with it, too. If Jack hadn’t come in…”

Color drains from Lardo’s face as a car pulls up to the curb behind Eric. He waves at the driver, indicating that he’ll be right there, and turns back to his friend.

“Eric, I’m-I’m so sorry, I didn’t _know_.”

“I know,” he says, looking at this suitcase on the ground. “I think...I repressed it until yesterday. It was easy to block it out because I wasn’t here and I didn’t want to deal with it, but then I was back in my room and everything hit me at once and he was _here_ , and I know you didn’t know but you still let it happen and… Lardo, I’m so sorry, but I’m so incredibly furious at you right now.” He looks down at the ground, trying to control his shaking hands. “It’s unfair. I’m at least aware that I’m being irrational. But as much as I try to wrestle the anger down, I can’t help the way I feel right now, and I think it would be best if I just… If I had some space. Away from you.”

She’s crying again, trying to hide it from the man in the car.

“I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs. “Nothing you can say right now will change anything. I love you, but I need some time to come to terms with everything.”

“You’re not coming back, are you?”

He frowns. “I never said that, I just...I’m feeling too many things, and there isn’t enough time to deal with any of them. I’m gonna be late for my flight.”

“How the fuck can you be so indifferent about this right now? I don’t...I don’t _know_ this person who’s standing in front of me. I don’t know you.”

“Me, either,” he says, picking up his suitcase. “Bye for now, Lardo,” he says without meeting her eye, turning around and opening the car door.

“Eric, wait!”

The door shuts behind him and he looks down at his hands.

“Girlfriend troubles?” the driver asks him.

Eric exhales. “Something like that.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Eric forces himself to keep looking down as the car pulls away from the curb, Lardo and the house falling into the distance behind him.

 

* * *

 

He drifts in and out of sleep for most of the flight, the emotional exhaustion and his throbbing head playing tug-of-war with his brain. Waves of nausea come and go. He didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to anybody; Shitty left early in the morning to get some work done, Ransom and Holster were still asleep, and Jack…

Well, Jack was probably somewhere with Kent, doing who knows what. It baffles him that Jack could ever go back to him, even after everything they’d been through, after everything Kent did to him. And after Kent assaulted him, it feels like a personal attack on Eric. Jack knows the full extent of what happened that night, and still made the conscious choice to associate with the bastard. It makes his stomach shift in his gut. There’s a numbness that’s set in, ever since his final conversation with Lardo. Emotion seems like a far off land, as foreign as his own body is to him as his eyes slowly close again.

He doesn’t open them again until the wheels of the plane hit tarmac, jolting him out of unrestful sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he regains his bearings as the plane rumbles to a stop. The time on his phone reads 10:27, still fairly early. That’ll be the time zone difference. His headache has faded back to a dull pulsating, his eyes less intent on closing. The events of the past day are on the other side of the country. As far as he’s concerned, Caleb and the bakery are the only things that matter to him anymore.

The walk through the tunnel back into the airport feels like going through a portal, the bitter cold of the East coast driving him into the somber chill of the West. Now connected to the world again, he receives multiple notifications, welcoming him back to the ground. Among them are some replies to a tweet he doesn’t fully remember sending, a missed call from Maggie, and...a text from Lardo. The preview of the message says:

**Lardo (ur gf): Listen, I know we’re not on speaking terms right now, and even though I don’t understand it I want to respect how you feel. But I feel like you should know…**

Eric clears the notification. He can read it later if he’s feeling up to it.

The dim chatter of the airport in the morning greets him as he enters the actual building, briefly looking around him to make sure he’s going in the right direction. He groans at the thought of calling an Uber to get home but opens the app; he’d rather do it now and not have to wait too long.

“You know, the world is a lot more interesting when your nose isn’t buried in your phone all the time,” says a smug, familiar voice.

Eric looks up and practically flings his suitcase aside. “Caleb!” Something comes over him and he flings himself into Caleb’s arms, fingers gripping tight to the back of his leather jacket. He blinks tears out of his eyes, sighing as Caleb returns the embrace and squeezes Eric just tight enough.

“Wow,” he says, his soft voice only audible to Eric. “I didn’t think you’d be _this_ excited to see me.”

Eric pulls away. “You would think I could go 24 hours without seeing my boyfriend, but apparently not.” He laughs as he retrieves his suitcase from the ground, righting himself to see Caleb looking at him oddly.

“Did you just call me…”

Eric’s heart leaves his chest and shoots into his throat, just for a second. He swallows, trying to force it back down behind his ribs.

“Um,” he says, trying to think of some kind of excuse. But why should he? What’s the point? “Yeah, I called you my boyfriend, because, well...don’t you think you are?”

Caleb smiles, picking Eric up and swinging him around.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

Eric laughs, batting Caleb’s shoulder. “Put me down, we are in _public_!”

Caleb lets him down, kissing him before he can go far.

“If people want to look, fucking let them! If they have a problem with me and my _boyfriend_ , I’d love to have a chat about it!”

Eric rolls his eyes, grabbing Caleb’s hand and pulling him toward the exit.

“Don’t get carried away, now. I don’t really want my welcome back to be accompanied by you fighting homophobes in the airport. By the way, how did you get here?”

Caleb grins. “Mark let me borrow his car. He was a real asshole about it, considering he rarely drives it anyway.”

“So you’re capable of operating heavy machinery! I’m impressed, especially considering the fact that gays can’t drive.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous. My driving’s fine, it’s my _parking_ that’s a nightmare.”

 

* * *

 

Caleb’s technically telling the truth. His driving _is_ fine, but his hyperbolic road rage instills a familiar sinking feeling in Eric. It starts with what Eric considers an excusable reaction; someone cuts Caleb off while he’s trying to merge, so he honks and screams at him. Fine. But when he starts abusing the horn for trivial cases—including one time when the car in front of them is simply making a right turn, blinker on and all, but in slowing down to do so sends Caleb into a minor rage. Even more off-putting is the way Caleb switches so casually back into regular conversation after these fits.

The plan is to drop Eric off at their building so he doesn’t have to come with Caleb to drop off the car and lug his suitcase back, but he insists that he accompany him. Even despite the sudden nerves, he feels it’s the least he can do considering Caleb drove to the airport to get him.

Once the car is safely back in the parking garage where it belongs, they start the walk back to their apartment building.

“I’ll take that,” Caleb says, making to grab Eric’s suitcase.

On reflex he pulls away. “No, it’s fine! It’s just some clothes, nothing heavy.”

Caleb rolls his eyes but wraps an arm around Eric’s shoulders, pulling him close. He’s grateful for the warm body next to his as they walk, the December wind sending a chill through his bones.

“So? How was it?”

Eric sighs. He’d avoided the topic of the party for the whole car ride, instead electing to prod Caleb about the song he’s currently working on (which he was all too glad to rant about).

“It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Well, no, I mean, it was great.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caleb shrugs, pulling away from Eric. “You just seem a little distant right now. Did something happen in Boston?” It’s hard to ignore the accusation in his voice.

“Caleb, nothing happened. But I just got back from the place where I spent my whole summer. My _only_ friends are there. _Aside_ from you,” he says, cutting Caleb off as he opens his mouth to argue. “It’s just weird going back for such a short period of time and not getting to spend the time I wanted to with everybody. That’s all!”

Caleb hums, returning his arm to Eric’s shoulders. “I get that. And you know, I’ve said it before, you _could_ have friends here if you would just—”

“I know,” Eric says, interrupting him again. “I’m always welcome to hang out with your friends. But they’re _your_ friends.”

“Right, but they could be _our_ friends. Especially if we’re making this official. I’m not saying they have to be in our wedding party, just that it might be nice for you to get to know them! They’ve practically begged me to bring you along. They already love you!”

The words _our wedding party_ cause Eric to shiver again, or maybe it’s just the gust of wind that blows past.

“I think we’re actually planning on hanging out tonight, if you want to come along.”

Eric sighs. “I just got back. _And_ we have work in the morning.”

“Will you relax? We’re not going out, just chilling somewhere. Probably Adam’s. You can sleep for the rest of the day and then rally.”

“So there _is_ gonna be drinking then?”

“Well, yeah, but we’re fucking adults, and it’s not like you don’t drink Barefoot like it’s water. What the hell is going on with you?”

There’s a pause, the only sound Eric’s suitcase wheels bumping along the sidewalk.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m just feeling a little off. I think I just need to...shower. Or something.”

He can feel Caleb eyeing him suspiciously from his side. The tension in his shoulders relaxes when Caleb squeezes him and plants a kiss on the top of his head.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to talk about it now. _Something’s_ bothering you, and I don’t want to contribute to whatever it is. I just want my smiley...boyfriend back,” Caleb says, taking the hand from Eric’s shoulder and grabbing one of Eric’s. “That word is a little weird to use.”

“Boyfriend?”

“It’s been a while since I had something even remotely serious. I think I’ll get used to it pretty quickly, though.”

Eric does smile now, raising their joined hands to his face and kissing Caleb’s, the skin cold against his lips. He thinks back to the summer, thinks about what it feels like to be part of a group. Back in Boston, even though he’d entered the friend group so late he’d never felt othered, and he realizes this fear has been holding him back. Besides, Caleb has a point about them getting more serious; it only makes sense for Eric to try to spend some time with Caleb’s friends.

“Fine. I’ll come,” he says.

“Really? You’re serious?”

They’ve stopped walking, only a block away from home.

“Life’s too short, right?”

Caleb cheers, then grabs Eric’s face and kisses him, suddenly impervious to the cold wind whipping past them.

 

* * *

 

“I promise, we’ll only stay as late as you want,” Caleb says, unable to hide the glee in his voice. “I still can’t believe you agreed to this! It’s like my worlds are finally colliding.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I haven’t met your friends before. They all came to the bakery together that first week we opened. And a couple stop in from time to time, too.”

“I know! I work there too, remember? But this is different. You don’t have to be ‘Bits,’ you can just be Eric.”

He pulls himself closer to Caleb’s body, the outside world even colder now that the sun’s made its early departure below the horizon.

“Is there a problem with me being ‘Bits?’”

“Well, for one thing, that’s when you’re my boss. But your brain is also all over the place whenever you work.”

Eric scoffs. “Maybe it seems that way, but just because you don’t understand my system doesn’t mean I’m scattered!”

Caleb laughs. “I’m _teasing_ you, Eric. How could I actually think that when the bakery is doing as well as it is?”

Eric doesn’t respond, but instead bumps his hip into Caleb’s. He cries out dramatically, pretending to stumble.

“If I weren’t so much bigger than you, I would hip check you into next Tuesday,” Caleb says.

“You’d have to catch me first!” Eric takes off down the vacant sidewalk, laughing as the December air whips past his face. He yells when a pair of arms wraps around his waist and rips his feet off the ground. Caleb swings him around in a circle, putting him down carefully but not letting go of his waist.

“Getting away from me is _not_ going to be that easy,” he says, leaning down to kiss Eric, who returns it, humming against Caleb’s mouth then pushing away. While they had never been afraid of PDA, something about its frequency since Eric’s return raises a small flag in his mind.

“Come on, your friends are probably wondering where we are.”

Caleb smirks. “And when we’re late, we can just tell them we were making out in the middle of the sidewalk. They’ll understand!”

He leans down again, but Eric laughs and catches Caleb’s face in his hands. “Later! Weren’t you the one who was so intent on me getting to know them?”

Caleb sighs, smiling despite defeat. “Fine. But can you blame me for wanting to kiss you all the time? It’s all I thought about when you were gone, you know. Kissing you.”

Grateful for the darkness, Eric feels his cheeks flush. “Flattery _will_ get you everywhere, but right now we need to _get_ to Adam’s apartment. It’s cold out!”

Caleb kisses the top of his head before taking his arms away from Eric’s waist, offering him his elbow instead. Eric wraps his own arm through and they continue down the street, the moon peeking out from behind a cloud to light their way.

 

* * *

 

Adam meets them down on the first floor to make it easier for them to get into the building. He hops up from a bench against the wall as soon as they enter the lobby area, grinning.

“Fuck yes! I was starting to think you were flaking on us.”

Caleb scoffs, feigning offense. “Me? Never.”

Adam gives Caleb a hug, then turns to Eric and, to his surprise, does the same.

“I’m so glad you decided to come! It’s great to actually get to meet you, we’ve all heard so much.”

Eric smiles, nodding. He remembers Adam from the day Caleb’s friends had visited the bakery together. He’s tall—taller than Caleb, at least—with dark, nearly perfect skin. His hair is short and bleached blond. Adam had ordered first that day, if Eric remembers correctly, because he’d taken the least amount of time to decide what he wanted. He gives Eric pretty heavy mom-friend vibes, so he feels comfortable talking with him right off the bat. Adam actually reminds him a little bit of Lardo.

There’s a twist in his stomach at that thought, so he swallows it down and follows Adam and Caleb to the stairs.

“One thing you’ll learn about this building is that the elevator is a nightmare,” Caleb says to Eric, grabbing his hand to rope him more into the conversation.

“It _works_ ,’ Adam says, “but I’d say at least 60% of the time, it’s a complete gamble which floor you’ll actually end up on. My place is just up on four, so it’s usually smarter just to take the stairs.”

Caleb snorts. “Adam, you remember the time we ended up on the top floor and the piece of shit got stuck?”

“Can we not talk about that right now?” Adam says. There’s suddenly a slight edge to his voice.

“Seriously?” Caleb says, sighing. “I’ve told you a hundred times, we did _not_ see—”

“I don’t care what we did or didn’t see! Honestly! I’d just like to forgo the topic, if we could!”

Eric bites at one of his nails on his free hand, wincing as Caleb’s grip tightens just slightly too much for his liking. He squeezes back and Caleb’s grip loosens again.

“Caleb will tell you all about it later, I’m sure,” Adam says as they start to climb the stairs. “So, Eric, what do you do?” he asks, his tone cheerful again. “I mean, aside from the baking, obviously.”

“Well,” Eric says, running through a typical day in the life in his head. “Honestly, not much else.”

“Hmm. I imagine running a bakery keeps you pretty busy?”

“Definitely. I do get a decent amount of free time, though! I spend a lot of it either sleeping or listening to music.” He pauses, considering what else he’s willing to bring up. Oh, why the hell not? “I also have a vlog,” he says, trying to say that as casually as possible.

“Oh, really? What about?”

Caleb laughs. “Take one guess.”

Eric bats at his arm. “Yes, it’s about baking! But that’s what I _do_ , remember?” he says, defending himself. “It’s actually what I went to college for,” he says, directing this once more at Adam.

“No way! So you’re pretty legit, then!”

“Well, you’ve been a customer. I think that’s up for you to decide!”

Adam smiles. “I can’t remember the last time I had a chocolate chip cookie that good.”

“There you have it! My only other question is why haven’t you been back yet?”

They finally reach the fourth floor, all slightly out of breath from their ascent.

“I’ve been away, actually. My family and my boyfriend all live in New York, so I spent the last couple months there. For the holidays and stuff, you know.”

That raises more questions than answers for Eric, but he isn’t able to ask them as they finally approach Adam’s apartment. Music comes through the closed door, as well as the chatter of voices. It swings open and they’re greeted by a faint cheer and clapping. Caleb rolls his eyes, ushering Eric inside and swinging the door shut behind him. Before anything, Adam takes their jackets and throws them in his bedroom.

Two of the guys sitting on the couch Eric recognizes. Mark, the one who had flirted with Eric, is sitting on one of the arms of the sofa. His hair is still just as red, but Eric notices that his freckles aren’t as prominent now that the winter months have set in. Eric actually finds him very attractive, and suddenly he’s wondering what might have happened if he hadn’t been such an idiot and reciprocated Mark’s flirting.

The other man he recognizes is short and muscular, and looks as though he might be part Asian. Eric racks his brain for a name, but comes up empty and hopes for a re-introduction. Finally, there’s a tall, lanky guy with pastel pink hair and a septum piercing sitting between the others; Eric has never seen him before. They all stand and hug Caleb. Eric is struck by how physically affectionate they are with him, but then again the same is probably true for all of them.

Caleb smiles at Eric, who is still standing by the door, inviting him over.

“Eric, this is Mark, Brandon, and Ian,” he says, introducing them in the same order Eric had noticed them. “I know you’ve technically met Mark and Brandon already but why not make it official?”

“Good to see you again,” Mark says, grinning. His pale face is a little red; Eric notices a few empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

Brandon shakes Eric’s hand, not saying anything. Right, he remembers now! He’s not a very talkative guy, but his energy is very calming.

“I just feel, like, _blindsided_ by this,” Ian says to Caleb, gesturing to Eric.

“What? Me having a boyfriend?”

“Well, that, but you also said that you swore off twinks after—”

“ _Alright_ , I think we’re all nice and acquainted, don’t you, Eric?” Caleb says, taking Eric by both shoulders and ushering him toward the kitchen, where Adam is going through his fridge.

“What was all that about?” Eric asks, glancing back at the small congregation, which is now situating itself back on the couch.

Caleb shakes his head. “It’s not important. Ian is just a dick and loves bringing up old drama. It’s a Gemini thing, apparently.”

“Eric, what are you drinking? I’ve got some really shitty beer if you’re into that. Aside from Mark, though, everybody’s doing wine.”

Caleb smiles at Eric, nodding. “See? I told you you’d like them.”

“I’ll just have a little wine, thank you,” Eric says. He remembers that when he drank wine during parties back in the summer, he’d always felt a little out of place, so it was a bit strange for that to be the majority.

“Ice, Caleb?” Adam asks, taking a glass out of his cabinet. Caleb shakes his head and Adam fills the glass with water, handing it to Caleb and pouring Eric his wine. He takes it, giving Caleb a confused look. Caleb responds with one insisting that Eric not worry about it.

 

* * *

 

The first hour races by, the conversation light and lively. Caleb’s arm rarely leaves Eric’s shoulders and he peppers his face with kisses every so often. The contrast is stark against everything he knew from the summer. That had all been so private and special, but this… This feels more like Caleb showing him off. It’s weird at first, but Eric feels more and more validated by it as it continues.

After hearing all about Mark’s latest Grindr hookup, Ian’s dramatic retelling of how difficult it was to get his hair that color, and Adam’s adventures in New York, Caleb thrusts Eric into the spotlight.

“Eric actually just got back from a trip to the East Coast, too!”

All eyes are suddenly on him, and if it weren’t for the wine he might feel anxious. Still, it’s awkward to be put in a position in which you’re socially required to follow up.

“Yeah,” he says, licking his lips. “It wasn’t anything too exciting, though. I lived in Boston over the summer and one of my friends threw a surprise party for her boyfriend. Who’s also my friend. He’s actually in law school right now, so getting hold of him is pretty tough these days. It was nice to get to see him.” He stops, aware that he’s rambling and most of that information was absolutely irrelevant.

“Did the surprise work? I feel like the person always has a _feeling_ at least, you know?” Ian says.

Eric shrugs. “He seemed pretty damn surprised to me. The alternative is he’s just an incredible actor, which is plausible.” He takes a sip of wine—bigger than he’d intended—and exhales when Ian starts to recount a time he’d tried to throw a surprise party for one of his friends, taking the attention off him.

Caleb gives him a strange look but says nothing, electing to raise Eric’s hand to his mouth and kiss it instead.

“God, can you two stop eye-fucking in front of everyone? At least give us an invite,” Mark says.

In response, Caleb pulls Eric in for a kiss, making his use of tongue more than evident to the people around them. He pulls away after a second, leaving Eric feeling odd.

“Sounds like _someone’s_ jealous,” he says, his voice song-like.

“Whatever,” Mark grumbles as he stands, going to the kitchen for another beer.

Caleb rolls his eyes and watches him go. “Fuck. I’ll be right back,” he says, following after Mark.

“Well. I’m gonna go pee so I don’t have to be around for whatever this is!” Ian says, hopping to his feet and practically jogging to the bathroom.

Eric looks after Caleb and then meets Adam’s eye, hoping for some kind of explanation.

“It’s...not worth getting into,” Adam says. Eric hears hushed voices coming from the kitchen. “But I’m sure you know how it is with Caleb. Everything has to be _something_.”

Eric nods. He hadn’t really thought about it, but there is a certain amount of drama that accompanies nearly everything Caleb does.

“I mean, given his situation, I think sometimes a little drama is warranted,” Brandon says. “He’s been through a lot of shit recently.”

“That’s true. How are you doing with all of that, by the way?” Adam asks Eric, something in his tone indicating a seriousness that Eric wasn’t anticipating. “I know some people are super uncomfortable about it, but he’s lucky to have someone like you who supports him with everything.”

Eric blinks, feeling beyond lost. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”

Adam and Brandon both frown, looking toward the kitchen, where Caleb and Mark are quietly arguing about something.

“I mean, he’s got the whole starving artist thing going on, but my situation really isn’t so different, so we sort of mutually support each other,” Eric says, fishing for an explanation.

Adam stands, shaking his head. “Excuse me,” he says, going into the kitchen.

Something isn’t right about their reactions. What could Caleb possibly be hiding from him? Clearly all of his friends know about it, so why wouldn’t he trust Eric, too?

“Do _you_ know what the hell is going on?” Eric asks Brandon, who sighs and nods.

“I do, but it’s...not really my place to tell you...”

“But you’re going to anyway?” Eric guesses.

“I just don’t want you to be in the dark while they’re talking all of this out. That would be unfair. And you’re probably going to find out sooner rather than later, anyway.” Sure enough, the angry whispering from the other room continues, but Eric still can’t make out what they’re saying.

“So?” Eric asks, his pulse pounding in his head.

“Eric, Caleb is a pretty serious alcoholic,” he says, avoiding Eric’s eye. The words sink into him like ice cubes into a glass of water, cold radiating out into his limbs.

“He…what?”

“We were all under the impression that he was going to some kind of program to help him out. He had a _really_ bad weekend over the summer, and Adam found him passed out in his own apartment. We practically begged him to get some help after that, and initially it seemed like he was. But now…”

Now, there’s no way. There’s no way Caleb could be going to meetings for any kind of program for addicts without Eric knowing, there’s no way he could be hiding something that big from him.

“I think I said too much,” Brandon says, looking down at the floor. “You really didn’t know?”

Eric has never felt smaller in his life. He just shakes his head.

“I’m sorry. This has gotta be just about the worst way to find out.”

“It-it can’t be _true_ ,” Eric says, not sure if he wants to cry or throw up. He doesn’t _want_ it to be true, not because he would respect Caleb any less for having an addiction, but because it would shatter any sense of trust in him that Eric had. “We’ve gone out to clubs together and had drinks, and he’s usually the more responsible one. He-he has a glass of wine or a beer with dinner sometimes, I…”

“To me, it sounds like maybe he’s been keeping things under wraps, possibly just for your sake. My understanding is that Caleb is a functional alcoholic, so to the rest of the world—even the people who are close to him—it might seem like nothing’s wrong. It’s when he’s alone that he’s the biggest danger to himself.”

Eric stands up, placing his glass on the table with a shaking hand. His buzz is gone, replaced by the buzz of questions and fear swirling in his head.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” he says, not waiting for a response before gliding toward the bathroom. He swears when he remembers it’s occupied, but he needs to get away, he needs to be alone, just for a minute.

Eric finds himself sitting on the edge of Adam’s bed. The room is completely dark, and the world around him is silent. He doesn’t remember closing the door A weight has settled on his chest, pressing down on his lungs. _Why is this affecting me so much? This doesn’t make him a bad person._ He presses his face into his hands, trying to force tears back into his head.

_But lying might._

He takes a deep breath, trying to reenter his own body. It’s a lot of information to take in at once, and the fact that he’s not fully sober isn’t helping with his ability to cope with the onslaught. He tries to think through what happens next. He has no idea how to help someone who’s struggling with alcoholism, but maybe nothing changes. Maybe Caleb is better now, maybe he’s over whatever sent him spiraling the first time. He notices he’s sitting on something uncomfortable and he shifts his weight, realizing it’s Caleb’s leather jacket. The same one he’d given Eric that night before everything came out.

Eric gasps when the bedroom door opens, a sliver of light cutting across his face. He blinks at the sudden illumination, wiping his face and trying to determine who it is that’s come in. The door closes and he sees a head of red hair through the darkness.

“I thought I saw you come in here,” Mark says, his words slightly slurred. Eric doesn’t respond, unsure of why he decided now would be a good time to talk to him. Mark crosses to the bed, sitting down next to Eric. “Pretty shitty of Caleb to keep all of this from you.”

“I guess,” Eric responds, hyper-aware of how close to him Mark is sitting. He smells the alcohol on his breath—they’d all been drinking, so why is it making his skin crawl the way it is?

“You know, I thought you were cute from the first time I saw you.”

Eric tries to subtly scoot away, but Mark mimics the movement.

“I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way, but I saw the way you were checking me out earlier.”

Eric swallows. He can’t deny that he’d given Mark more visual attention than anybody else in the room—even Caleb—but he wasn’t too naive to not realize that Mark was also purposely making it very easy for him to do so. Stretching his arms above his head so his shirt would come up and reveal his tone stomach, taking an extra long time to bend down and pick up a bottle cap that he’d “accidentally” dropped, throwing Eric _looks_ all night. He feels somewhat guilty about taking advantage of these opportunities, but secure in the fact that he would never act on them.

“You have the wrong idea,” Eric responds, his voice hoarse.

Mark shakes his head, moving even closer. Eric feels a familiar sensation of being trapped; he doesn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, but things are escalating in a way he doesn’t know how to handle.

“Look, Caleb’s my friend, but the guy’s a wreck. You know what they say about damaged goods, you don’t _want_ any of that.”

“I-I don’t think it’s your place to tell me what I want,” Eric says, trying to sound sure but betrayed by his voice breaking.

It all happens quickly, and yet time seems to slow down. There’s a hand on his inner thigh and lips on his neck, and then the door swings open and someone is yelling— it’s Caleb, and he’s yelling, and Mark is yelling back as Caleb yanks him off the bed and onto the ground, and he’s hitting him and Adam is trying to pull Caleb off of Mark, and Brandon is a lifeline pulling Eric out the room and depositing him on the couch before he assists Adam in peeling Caleb off a howling Mark, and Ian is standing behind the couch, one hand gently on Eric’s shoulder.

Adam and Brandon finally manage to separate the fight, but Eric is still flinching at every screamed accusation. He isn’t sure when Caleb’s attention turns to him, but the second it does he wishes Caleb was still fighting Mark.

“WHEN I SAID I WANTED YOU TO MEET MY FRIENDS, I DIDN’T MEAN I WANTED YOU TO FUCKING HOOK UP WITH THEM,” he’s yelling, and Eric is crying now, shaking and scared because Caleb is _screaming_ and Adam is holding him back. “FUCKING _SLUTS_ , BOTH OF YOU!”

Eric is on his feet and everything comes to a halt. The whole room is waiting for him to say something, to do something, to do _anything_.

“How long were you going to try to keep it from me?” he asks.

“Don’t change the goddamn subject,” Caleb says, his volume dipping closer to normal.

“How the fuck am I ever supposed to trust you again?” Eric says, trying to ignore his own tears. “You’re an _alcoholic_ , Caleb.”

“I _was_ an alcoholic. Until I met you, you fucking dumbass. Maybe _that’s_ why it never came up.”

Eric opens his mouth to respond, but Caleb’s words register and he pauses. He sees the apprehension on the faces of everybody else in the room.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. This was a fucking mistake. I should’ve known you all would go behind my back like this,” Caleb says, breaking out of Adam’s grip and rushing for the door.

“Caleb, stop,” Eric calls after him, but the door slams and he’s gone.

Eric crumples back onto the couch, driving the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispers. Caleb’s jacket is still sitting on Adam’s bed. He left without it.

“Oh, hun,” Ian says, sitting down next to Eric and rubbing his back. Eric’s vaguely aware of Adam kicking Mark out of the apartment and Brandon escorting him out when he refuses to leave, but he’s mostly trying to get his heart to stop doing laps in his chest.

Adam is crouching down in front of him now. “Eric? Talk to us, sweetheart. We want to help.”

Eric shakes his head, totally unsure of what they can even do to help.

“Do you want to stay here for the night?”

“No,” he says, starting to come back to his senses. “Thank you, but I have to...I have to go to work in the morning. I should get home.”

Adam sighs. “Are you sure? Tonight...was a lot. I know I wouldn’t want to be alone right now.”

Eric stands up, drying his face. “No, I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

_Wherever that is, anyway._

“Okay, at least let me call you an Uber. And here’s my number, in case you want to talk about anything,” Adam says, quickly taking Eric’s phone. “I’m so sorry you got thrown in headfirst like that. You must be terrified.”

“I’ve just...never heard him yell like that. And at _me_ …”

Adam nods in understanding, pulling Eric into a hug. “It’s going to be fine. Everybody’s just a little wound up right now. Once things calm down, I’m sure you and Caleb will talk and clear things up. He has bouts of anger like this sometimes, but by tomorrow I’m sure he’ll be more rational.”

“It wasn’t me, you know? I didn’t want to—”

“Mark’s an idiot,” Ian says, shaking his head. “He doesn’t think with the right head 9 times out of 10. And Caleb _knows_ that. He was just overwhelmed and had to yell at _someone_.”

“Still, he shouldn’t have exploded the way he did,” Adam says.

Eric shrugs. “I guess not.” He’s especially struck by how immediately violent Caleb had been, the way he’d thrown Mark onto the floor without hesitation.

His ride home is there within a few minutes; Ian and Adam walk him outside to make sure he gets in safely. He makes sure he has Caleb’s jacket before he leaves.

 

* * *

 

Eric locks his door behind him, not making it another step into his own apartment before breaking down. He sits on the floor, his back against the door, body shaking with silent sobs. How can he ever face any of them again after the disaster he caused? And how is Caleb going to take things in the light of day? He mourns the dead opportunity for friendship, the shooting down of a fleeting hope that loneliness might be a thing of the past again.

After a few minutes he manages to drag himself to bed, not bothering to take his clothes off. The last thing he does before crashing is make sure his alarm is set for the morning. After all, it’ll be Monday morning. The bakery can’t _not_ open, or every aspect of his life will officially be a disaster.

**Author's Note:**

> Um. So. Hello all! I am very sorry for how long it's been since White Houses ended, and I know I promised I would fix the very unhappy ending eventually. It only took me almost 2 years, but here's the first chapter of the second half of this stupidly long, angsty, gay saga. Unlike White Houses, this one won't be updating quite as frequently, but I definitely want to chip away at it and maybe have it finished by the end of this summer. I put so much of my heart and soul into White Houses and it's always bugged me that I didn't write the sequel, which brings us to today! As promised to her, here's a little shoutout to one of my best friends IRL, who I forced to read White Houses once she found out it existed, and who in turn convinced me that providing the sequel is necessary. I think I've grown and changed a lot in the couple of years between installments (looking back at some of my author notes on WH, I was SO insecure and in need of validation goddamn), but now I'm writing this not for anybody's approval, but because I just really really want to, and I love doing it. Alright, that's enough from me. Hope y'all enjoy :)
> 
> Final Note: White Houses obviously had a single song that sort of followed the story, but this one's overarching song is more of a mood than an actual plot map: [Touch It by Ariana Grande](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxRZCXLhvHc)
> 
>  **Fic Playlist:**  
>  1) From the Dining Table // Harry Styles  
> 2) How // Regina Spektor  
> 3) 6/10 // Dodie  
> 4) The One // Carly Rae Jepsen  
> 5) WILD // Troye Sivan  
> 6) Paper Hearts // Tori Kelly  
> 7) Still Run // Wet  
> 8) Everyone is Gonna Love Me Now // Ingrid Michaelson


End file.
